


Transfusion

by hTeDruknenPotaT



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, F/F, Fantasy Medical Procedures, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, He's the best part of this story, Hurt/Comfort, MCR, Nonbinary Crona (Soul Eater), Other, Post Anime, Self Harm, Soul is the friend everyone deserves, Trans Characters, every time Soul appears in this the quality of the story spikes, lots of mental illness, read on for the piano man I'm serious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hTeDruknenPotaT/pseuds/hTeDruknenPotaT
Summary: Crona has doubts about losing the black blood that's been a part of them for so long. Will it be easier to deal with things without Ragnarok?  Once Crona adjusts to having a home and being loved, there is one thing left to do: It is time to get Ragnarok off their back.
Relationships: Crona & Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn & Crona & Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn & Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn/Crona, Marie Mjolnir & Crona
Comments: 56
Kudos: 79





	1. Thinking About Crona

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year! This is a fix-it fic. Sort of. I just think that Crona deserves better, and this story is my attempt to take a hammer and FIX the baby. Everybody who does Crona wrong gets to either die or make up for it. Takes place after the anime.
> 
> I wasn't originally planning on posting this! This is a love story.

“I’ve been thinking about Crona.”

“What about Crona?”

Marie poured the tea into her new mug. It was a simple deep burgundy mug. An elegant splash of color to liven up the place. She set Stein's mug in front of him first before pouring her own cup. He looked from the mug to her face. He could tell something was on her mind, she could see that.

"I feel bad about their living situation. I get wanting to be close to the school, but they shouldn’t still be living in the dungeon. They’ve shown their loyalty multiple times, there’s no reason for them to stay there anymore as any kind of precaution.” She grasped her mug tight, frowning into it. For Crona to be so polite to her, smiling and saying everything was okay, and then going back down there... “It hurts to know that Crona returns to that place every day. I feel responsible.”

“You’re not,” said Stein.

“Well, aren’t all of us?” Marie asked. “The DWMA made the decision to take in Crona.”

“We’ve provided room and board.”

“We’ve provided the _dungeon,_ you heartless fuck!”

Stein shrugged. “It was only supposed to be temporary.” He finally sipped his tea. “Crona hasn’t complained, though.”

“Yeah, I bet it’s a step up from where they were living before!” Marie huffed. She didn’t feel like sipping tea anymore. She set her mug down on the desk, next to Stein’s. She leaned against the wall, folding her arms. “I was thinking, and... hear me out, okay? I want Crona to live here.”

Stein cocked an eyebrow. “You think they can handle that?”

“I was wondering if _you_ could,” Marie said honestly. “I know it’s your place, but... now that we’re living together...” Not even in separate rooms anymore. It _was_ Stein’s place, but they were both providing equal income. She warmed his bed now, and she was providing the decoration and all the food that wasn’t likely to make them both die of a heart attack.

“Does this have anything to do with what you said the other day about wanting a baby?”

“Hey, I could still have a baby if I want, I’m still young enough!”

Stein smiled. “I think Crona would be happy to live with you,” he said. “It’s cute that you’ve formed a bond.”

“So... what do you think?” Marie asked. Stein hadn’t immediately shut her down like she thought he would. It seemed like a good sign... “Three’s not too much of a crowd?”

“Four, technically.”

Marie was confused for a moment, then she sighed. She _knew_ this, it was one of the reasons she was so desperate to get Crona out of there, being stuck alone with Ragnarok sounded like hell. She supposed that sometimes he could be cute. A little devious, but even endearing in his own strange way. According to Stein, though, he was once terrifying.

“Though I’ve wondered for the longest time,” said Stein, his fingers beginning to drum on his knee. “Since I first met them, what was in the realm of possibility... Crona and Ragnarok are two souls in one body. Would separating them into two be like unbaking a cake?” He was staring blankly ahead now, eyes roving as though watching an invisible fly only he could see. “And if it _were_ possible, what would become of the components? Could they each remain complete beings? Crona is easy to imagine, but what of Ragnarok? Would he become more human? Medusa’s research was thorough, but I doubt she ever intended to reverse her experiment. Infecting an individual with black blood isn’t exactly complicated. Turning it into a weapon as she did was quite a feat, but undoing her work would be a thousand times the challenge. It would be all the difference between falling and flying.”

“Um.” Marie frowned. “Okay.”

“Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“Crona’s living arrangements.”

“Right.” Stein nodded. “I think it’s a bad idea. We can look into apartments for Crona. They won’t need anything spacious, since I doubt they’ll want roommates.”

“Stein, I want Crona to live _here._ I don’t think they should be alone. Crona deserves to know what it’s like to be properly taken care of!”

Stein glanced back at his mug. He reached for it, hesitated, and rested his hand down on the desk instead. “I just think... I’m a busy man, and Crona and I... how do I put this... Given... a lot of things that have happened, it would be awkward for both of us. Don’t forget that I allowed myself to be swayed by Medusa.”

“So did Crona,” said Marie, looking down at the tile floor. “How could I blame either of you? I blamed Crona before, and... it’s the biggest regret of my life. I have to make it up to them. Crona proved their loyalty through their actions... now I have to earn their forgiveness.” Her motivations were selfish, Marie knew that. She wanted to do this so bad. If she didn’t help them, the guilt would eat her up for the rest of her life.

“I doubt Crona feels like you need to be forgiven,” Stein said. 

“I think that’s a problem. What _wouldn’t_ Crona blame themself for? They should be allowed to be angry, I don’t know if they’re even angry at their mother for everything she did to them.”

“We can’t undo that, you know.” He fixed her with a reassuring look that reassured her not one bit. He didn’t _get it._ “I understand that you want to help... but you can’t just fix a life like that.”

“Right, but you can perform a completely unheard of procedure to undo Medusa’s _physical_ tampering.” Marie picked up her mug and took a swig, wishing it were spiked. “If you can understand approaching hurdles from an experimental standpoint, try to understand wanting to do the impossible motivated by compassion and empathy.”

“I still think it’s a terrible idea.”

“Fine,” said Marie, “I’m moving out.”

“Hey, don’t be rash.”

“I’m not being rash,” Marie insisted, “I’m being compassionate. Crona was prepared to do the impossible. They were ready to die for your sake.”

“It was for your sake, I doubt Crona feels that strongly about me—”

“I _know,”_ Marie interrupted. She knew. And it hurt her every day. “I know it was for my sake, and my mistake was...” _Putting you first,_ she wanted to say, but that sounded angrier than she felt. She shouldn’t have put her heart first in that matter, not when her heart was in the wrong place. She should have opened her eyes and seen how Crona was being manipulated. Reached further out to the child still being tortured by their mother than the man she loved for getting dragged into her mess. It wasn’t Stein’s fault that she made such an unforgivable mistake. If he didn’t want to take this on, she’d do it on her own. 

“I should have done better by them,” she said instead. 

“I think a small apartment would be better, _for Crona._ It’s more on par with what they’re used to,” said Stein.

“They’re _used to_ living in terrible conditions. I think Crona is staying in the dungeon because they don’t know how to live on their own. But... if this is my wrong to right, then I’ll get my own place just for the two of us.”

She started to walk away. “Wait,” Stein called. Marie stopped and looked at him intently. Hesitantly, he continued, “It… the fault doesn’t lie solely with you. The school should have moved them into better living conditions by now and set them on track for healthy independent living, and if that hasn’t happened, I’ll talk to Lord Death about sorting it out, but I don’t think them living here would be healthy.”

“So rather than taking an active interest in this child’s life, you would rather unload the responsibility back onto the school that has left them in a dungeon cell for half a year?” demanded Marie.

“I just don’t think that bringing them here is my way of making up for things. If anything, living in the lab would traumatize them further.”

“So is your way of making it up to them trying to figure out this experiment?” asked Marie.

“No, I’ve been thinking about this much longer,” Stein admitted. “Before the DWMA decided to admit Crona, I was thinking... I shouldn’t finish that thought.”

Marie slammed her hands on the desk. “You were thinking _what?_ Not using them for black blood experiments?”

“I had those thoughts under the influence of the kishin’s madness,” said Stein. “Since then, I’ve thought to myself...” He raised his hands, shrugging. “‘That was fucked up.’”

“I’m inclined to agree, that is fucked up. But...” She smiled at him. “I’m also inclined to argue that you don’t want to admit that you have a heart. You want to help too, you’re just scared of getting personal.”

“I’ve never thought about having kids,” said Stein, “and this just seems like an immediate leap into the unknown and unexpected— You know what, I just can’t see it happening. The whole idea is so ludicrous to me, it almost makes me wanna...” He started laughing. He covered his face with one hand to hide it. But it didn’t hide it. Marie frowned.

“Alright, it’s you and your hand tonight,” she sighed, turning to walk away again.

“Hey. Before you go ahead making any arrangements, you should at least suggest the idea to Crona first.”

“...I don’t know how.” It was a strange thing to admit after thoroughly planning every other detail. This wasn’t something that she could just spring on Crona. “I’ll just have to think of something... unless you can help?”

Stein cranked his bolt. “Hypothetically,” he started, paused, and continued with a sigh— “I can’t believe I’m seriously discussing this.”

“Start believing it, because I’ve already made up my mind.”

“In that case...” There was quiet. “Definitely wait until after school. And don’t be forceful about it. We want Crona to be able to make their own decision. They should be able to refuse.”

He was right about that. But Marie couldn’t shake the feeling that Stein was hoping that Crona _would_ refuse.

🩸 🩸 🩸 

Crona kept leaning over to look at Maka. She was wearing one ponytail instead of two today. It framed her face different. It made Crona notice that she usually had a bit of hair in her face. Crona could see all of her face now. She was watching Miss Marie intently. But after a bit, she turned her head, caught Crona’s eye, and smiled. Crona turned to their notebook to write Maka a quick note.

_Your hair looks pretty today. I like the way it usually looks, but it’s very nice like this._

Crona folded the note and tapped her arm with it, smiling. Maka quietly took the note and smiled when she read it. She scribbled something beneath it and handed it back to Crona.

_Thanks, one of my hair ties broke._

Her handwriting was smaller and neater. Crona wrote back underneath, _I could start carrying spares if you want. I could bring a lot of them and do a french braid. That would stay in longer._ Crona had no idea how to do a french braid, but Maka’s hair always looked like a lot of fun to play with. Their heart fluttered as Maka read the note. She wouldn’t hate anyone touching her hair, would she?

Maka slid the note back across. _Only if you let me do something fun with your hair too._

Crona touched their neck, where a few stray wisps grew longer than all the parts that stuck out. _What could you possibly do with my hair?_ they wrote.

Maka began to write back, but Crona never found out what she was planning to do with their hair. As she started handing the note back, Marie called out, “Maka, can we please pay attention?”

“S-sorry,” Maka stammered, hunching over her notebook, flushing a deep red.

Crona felt terrible. They spent the rest of the period staring hard at Miss Marie, hardly daring to look at Maka again. Time stretched out agonizingly until the bell rang. Maka picked up her books without a look at Crona. They quickly stood and followed her as she hurried away. “I-I’m sorry for getting you in trouble!”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Crona followed Maka outside the row of desks. Soul stepped up to join them. “I shouldn’t let myself get distracted so easily.”

“Yeah,” Soul said, knocking his fist lightly against Crona’s head, “you need to stop distracting her.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Crona said again.

Maka was looking at Soul like she didn’t know whether or not to be mad. She just sighed and stomped away. Soul smirked as he watched her go. He looked up at Crona. “If you got something to say during class, maybe write it all down. As a poem or something.”

“A poem about Maka...” Crona mused.

Soul raised his eyebrows. “That was overt.”

They’d said that out loud. Crona wanted to curl up right there in the classroom. Luckily they heard behind them— “Hi, Crona.” It was Marie. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Welp, I’m out.” Soul jammed his hands into his pockets and slunk away.

Crona stood awkwardly by, waiting for Miss Marie to talk, but she waited until everyone filed out of the classroom. It was a nice day out, they were probably all going to sit outside in the grass for lunch. Crona hoped they’d still be allowed to eat later.

“Is, um... is this about Maka?”

“Huh?” Marie asked. “What about Maka?”

“Nevermind.”

“Why don’t we both sit down?”

Marie sat casually on top of her desk. Crona apprehensively took a seat across from her. “You’re not in trouble or anything,” she said kindly, “I just wanted to talk to you about... Well, it’s been a few months now. Now that the town’s mostly fixed up, you don’t have to keep living here in the school. The dungeon can’t exactly be comfortable.”

“It’s fine,” said Crona.

“Well, you have options,” Marie said. “Most of the students live in apartments close by. We could find you a place near your friends.”

“That’s okay, I’m fine where I am.”

Marie’s smile fell. “The dungeon’s not for people like you. You deserve to have your own space. Are you nervous about being on your own?”

“I don’t really have a problem living where I am,” Crona said. “It’s part of the school, but it’s far enough away from everything that it’s pretty quiet most of the time. The ceilings are high… and it has a sink.”

“A sink,” Marie repeated. “Well... I was talking to Professor Stein last night about you.”

“You were talking about me?” Crona asked nervously.

“Mm-hm.” Marie nodded. “I discussed the possibility of you moving in with us.”

Crona jumped. That came out of nowhere and nearly knocked them backward. Ragnarok burst from Crona’s back. “Are you serious?” he shouted. “What’s the old doc wanna do, come at us with a scalpel while Crona’s asleep?”

 _“No,”_ said Marie, frowning, “he’s not going to be doing that. Well.” She sighed. “I just wanted to bring it up. It’s your choice, but it’s an option. I would love to have you.”

Those words filled Crona’s lungs and made it hard to breathe. Hearing that made them feel so overwhelmed, it seemed too good to be true. Before they knew it, their vision was swimming. They swallowed hard, blinking away the tears. “That’s very kind of you,” they said.

“So... you’ll think about it?”

“Yeah, sure,” they choked out.

It was all they _could_ think about for the rest of the day, as their punishment for distracting Maka. They thought about writing a long note to her about it, just to put it all into words. But there was no good reason for that, class would be finished, and then why would she need to read a note when Crona could just tell her? That was a weird way to communicate. Crona stared hard at their notes. At nothing. So they could keep to themself as lectures started and ended instead of staring too emptily and making someone really confused.

When school finally let out, Crona followed Maka into the hallway. But Soul joined her, and Crona hung back. Then, out of nowhere, Marie appeared from around the corner.

“Well, did you think about it?”

Her smile was warm, _very_ warm, like a bright sun that had overstayed its welcome. Ragnarok emerged and settled at the top of Crona’s head. “Jeez, you didn’t give us a minute to breathe!”

“You could move in tonight if you want,” said Marie, clasping her hands.

“UM. Wh-what about Professor Stein?”

“He’s okay with it. It may take a bit of getting used to, but he’s fine with the idea!”

“Are you really sure about that?” Crona asked nervously.

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Marie.

Crona was sure she was lying. “I’m, uh...” If only they didn’t live right downstairs. “I’m gonna, um... gonna... go to my room.”

They backed away. Turned heel and ran. Was this some kind of dream? It didn’t feel real. Luckily, if they got out of Marie’s line of sight, she wouldn’t be able to find them. They took a detour around a cluster of students. Then slowed down when it was safe. They headed for the stairs. But there was another obstacle. Maka was there. Soul was standing a few steps behind her.

“Come on,” Maka said, “I was waiting for you. It’s game night, remember?”

“I’m too tired for that. Have fun.” They hurried down the stairs. Soul grabbed the back of their dress.

“Aah!” they cried as they were pulled to an abrupt stop.

“Don’t wimp out on us,” said Soul. “All eight controllers are finally working again.”

“I’m very sorry, but I’m going to sit this one out.” Soul looked very displeased, but he released Crona’s dress. They continued down. Maka followed them.

“What did Miss Marie want to talk to you about?”

Crona wished they had written it all down now. They weren’t entirely sure that conversation had really happened. “It’s nothing...”

“Really? You’re all jumpy.”

Crona looked to the side. “I’m always jumpy.”

“Well... I really wanted to spend time with you. We were really looking forward to tonight.” She stood on the stair behind them. She stood just a little bit taller like this. “Are you not feeling well?” She touched their forehead with the back of her hand. Crona blinked. “You don’t _feel_ sick.”

She smiled. Crona couldn’t help but smile back. “Y-yeah, alright, let’s go.”

🩸 🩸 🩸 

There were chips on the ground, mud tracked all over the halls, and a pillow that had been torn open. Soul was left alone to pick up all the debris of game night. It was much more important for Maka to walk Crona back home. Soul so badly wanted to leave half the mess for her, but he was less in the mood to trip over shit. It was nearly gone by the time Maka finally got back.

He frowned at her. “Great job getting out of cleaning again.”

Maka frowned back. “Crona doesn’t like walking home in the dark alone.”

“Fine, next time _I_ walk Crona home.”

He smirked at the way that made Maka shrink to bend down and start picking up shit. A crumpled piece of paper fell out of her pocket. She didn’t even notice. When her back was turned, Soul swiped it, straightened it out and read it.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He wheezed— it was an honest reaction— he couldn’t help it. “You gotta be shitting me!”

“What?” Maka saw him. Her eyes went wide. She made a swipe for the note. Soul jumped onto the couch to hold it out of her reach.

“Holy _shit,_ I thought Crona was being overt before!”

“What do you mean!” Maka cried. “Give that back!”

“Okay, if I had any doubts before, I _know_ you two are getting it on now.”

“We are _not_ getting it on!” Maka protested.

“Riiiiiiight,” said Soul, “all those hours you two were alone in your room the other day?”

“I was showing them my postcard scrapbook!”

“Hm, that thing you keep to yourself?” asked Soul, waving the note above her head. “You spent hours _just_ looking at a scrapbook?”

“We were talking too! You know what— It’s none of your business!”

She rolled up her sleeves, getting ready to charge. Soul quickly tossed the note a safe distance away. He hopped off the couch while Maka dove for it. “So you’ve got nothing going on, you’re just laying on the flirting in the middle of class.”

“It’s not _flirting,”_ said Maka, blushing furiously. 

“I swear I could catch you shoving your tongue down their throat and you’d be like, nooo, there’s nothing to see here!” Maka opened her mouth to argue, it was all she could do, so Soul swiped the note back and read in a high voice, “Oh Maka, you’re so pretty! No Crona, _you’re_ so pretty! No _you’re_ pretty! Let’s play with each other’s hair and gaze at each other in a field of daisies!” 

Soul expected the fists to come flying, but they remained curled at Maka’s side. “Don’t make fun of me.”

Soul lowered the note. “Why the hell are you being so cagey about this? It’s nothing to be that embarrassed about, just come out with it.”

“I don’t know.” Maka didn’t sound punchy. She sounded very uncertain, very unlike any Maka that Soul had seen in a very long time. “A while ago, I was sure something was going to happen, but it never did. Maybe I was making things up. Or... maybe I missed my window.”

 _Making things up?_ She didn’t sound like she was lying. “Well, it’s been a busy few months.”

“I’m not sure, and I don’t wanna force anything. There was a time when I was pretty sure, but...” She sat on the couch and drew her knees up. Soul stared at her, baffled.

“I’m not sure what you’re confused about. How you feel or how Crona feels?” Maka didn’t answer. Soul took a seat beside her. “‘Cause I can clear both of those up right now,” he said, handing the note back.

Maka looked it over again as though reading it for the first time. “You think Crona likes me?” she asked.

Soul couldn’t even laugh. Not only was Crona writing her love notes, but they brought over flowers for Maka every time they came to visit. Soul had just finished sweeping up a pile of dead petals. Sure Crona was weird, but Soul's benefit of the doubt only extended so far. It took a special kind of stupid to overthink the intention behind constantly bringing a girl flowers. 

“I’m embarrassed for your sake.”

Maka looked back at the note, not even reading it, or at least her eyes weren’t moving. Her thoughts danced in front of her head. Soul could see every one of them. It was a while before she said, “Well, if that’s how it is... I don’t wanna just bring it up out of nowhere. How would I even ask...” She smoothed out the corners.

“You want help?”

“No. Whatever.” Maka’s fist closed around the note. She stood up and stomped down the hall. Soul heard her door click shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the sake of sanity I feel like I should say croma does happen and it will happen before too much kicks off, so croma fans, know I'm here for you. 
> 
> I could go on a really long rant about how mad I am at all the adults in Soul Eater for how they treated Crona, but instead I'll just write about them making up for it! Fair warning, the rating of this may change to M, I don't know yet. Because it's Crona, it'll get fairly disturbing when going into their trauma, but imo Crona's entire existence needs to come with content warnings. I'll add more tags as necessary.
> 
> BIG BIG shout out to Renaissance for betaing! Or R3N41SS4NC3. You know, like a homestuck.


	2. Lines In the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crona gets subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being perceived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spirit is bi and homophobic.

Crona couldn’t look at Doctor Stein the next day. During class they just watched the empty space several feet away from him. It was too awkward to look anywhere near him. What if Stein caught their eye? How would they deal with that? What if Crona saw nothing but contempt, or more likely, what if he saw Stein feeling as awkward as they did? Marie had discussed her idea with him, _talked_ about Crona to him... Crona didn’t like to think about anyone talking about them. It was so strange to think about— existing in someone’s head where they couldn’t see them. They didn’t like it one bit.

They stayed close to Maka. They could look at her. Maka didn’t seem to know what to do about it. Normally if she caught Crona looking at her, she smiled. But she seemed distracted today, barely glancing at them. When she did look over, she didn’t smile. Maybe she didn’t want them staring? _She would tell me,_ Crona assured themself. She wasn’t the type to hide her feelings. Even so, it was better than looking at Doctor Stein.

But the more Crona watched her, the stranger she seemed. Her pen normally moved very fast while she listened to lectures. But today her writing seemed spread out... She would pause, sometimes for minutes at a time, staring into space.

Crona made sure to wait until she had a free moment this time. They waited until class was over. Then slid over to her seat.

“Um, hey, Maka?”

She jumped in her chair and spun around. “Whoa, didn’t see you there!”

“I’ve been sitting next to you all day.”

“Yeah...” Maka paused. She looked away. Maybe she really was trying to avoid looking at them. “What’s up?”

“I thought I’d ask you... You seem kind of out of it today.”

Maka’s cheeks turned pink. Crona wondered if they’d embarrassed her. She answered quietly, “I don’t think I can talk about it here... Do you wanna come over later? There’s something I want to talk to you about... alone.”

 _Alone...?_ “Yeah, sure.”

“Not right after school, I don’t want anyone trying to butt in while I’m walking home. Can you come over in the evening?”

“Okay,” Crona said. “When?”

“How’s seven?”

“I don’t know... that’s pretty close to dark.” Maka seemed disappointed, so Crona immediately changed their mind. “I mean, it’s not a problem—”

“I’ll walk you back.”

Crona nodded. It sounded important. Just another thing to be anxious about until the day finished. This made it all so much worse— now they couldn’t talk to Maka either. Their nerves were already hours ahead of them, anticipating the evening. And the walk back.

They separated with Maka at the end of the day, waving to her uncertainly, watching her leave. Soul was with her, like always, they lived together... And her other friends joined her, like she said would happen. She wanted to talk alone. Crona wondered what she wanted to talk to them about that she couldn’t tell her other friends.

This was going to be a long afternoon.

They turned and went back inside. The building was emptying out. The only people around were teachers and students staying late to study. Crona went down into the dungeons, where it was quieter. Into their room, where it was even quieter. Too quiet.

They sat on their bed. Paced around a bit. There was so much to think about. Usually this would keep them occupied. Having things to think about could drive them insane, but at least it wasn’t boring. Usually. But Miss Marie hadn’t talked to them again today. She wasn’t acting like nothing had happened, not exactly, she’d acted like she wanted to say something, then like she’d changed her mind; But she _would_ bring it up again. Or would she?

Was she insulted?

For once, Crona didn’t feel like being closed off in their room. They went back upstairs. Walked aimlessly down the halls, unsure of what else to do. They felt Ragnarok lean out, lying back and stretching. 

“I’m bored as shit.” He yawned and settled on top of Crona’s head. “Nothing’s happened since that big battle... Let’s go out and kill something.”

“No, Ragnarok...”

It _had_ been busy for a while. Everybody was needed to help rebuild Death City. Months later, repairs were still going on. For the first few weeks, the academy was pretty much the only place anyone could stay. While that was going on it was noisy and crowded all the time. Now the school felt huge and empty.

Crona found themself nearing the death room. They hadn’t been here much, not since the battle. But everything that went on there was hard to forget. It seemed so familiar now. Around the corner, they heard voices. Impossible to make out until they reached a corner. Two people were talking right around it.

“I’m not sure this is something taking my mind in a healthy direction. Is my reasoning just a self rationalization?” 

“Human experimentation isn’t anything new to you.”

 _Maka’s dad..._ Crona winced. They never liked that man. Luckily they never felt like they had to for Maka’s sake, since she seemed to hate him. Hearing him talk about human experimentation wasn’t doing him any favors to Crona. To talk about something like that so nonchalantly... 

“You know if I did go through with it,” said the voice they recognized as Stein’s, “and something went wrong, I can think of a couple people who would never forgive me. And somehow, I feel like I have more to fear from a teenage girl than a death scythe. By far, I feel the least threatened by the actual demon weapon and witch hybrid.”

Crona froze. _Is there another demon weapon and witch hybrid here?_ they wondered in a panic.

“Well, we beat them both pretty easily before,” Spirit said, “and that was when they were an actual threat.” _A threat? Human experimentation?!_ “And it’s not like you’d be fighting them anyway, _if_ you plan on getting their permission.”

“Well, of course,” Stein said. “I wouldn’t just sneak up on a child and cut them open.”

“You’ve grown as a person.”

 _What the fuck,_ Crona thought. They were imagining this, they had to be, right? “Yo,” Ragnarok whispered down to them, “what are you standing around for? Run for it! It sounds like we’re toast!”

If Ragnarok heard that too then Crona was sure they must have heard right. “Ragnarok,” they murmured, and without a sound, Ragnarok hardened into a sword. Crona pressed against the wall, getting into position to fight.

A pair of footsteps approached. Crona’s heart beat quickly. Doctor Stein appeared around the corner alone. His eyes went wide when he saw Crona. Time seemed to stop as they faced each other. Any amount of time could have passed before Stein finally said, “Holy shit.”

Crona shakily raised Ragnarok.

“Okay, listen, I can explain.”

“Think you can beat us again, old man?” Ragnarok screamed. Before Crona could help it, they launched forward. Stein simply stepped aside.

“Listen, this is something I’d wanted to talk to you about,” Stein said. His voice stayed level, but a bead of sweat dripped down his brow. Crona kept a tight grip on Ragnarok. “Good thing you’re uhh, both here. Guess we can have this conversation sooner rather than later. Why don’t we talk somewhere a little more private?”

“I’m good here, thank you,” Crona said, eyes narrowing.

“Hm. Yeah. Okay, look, I was discussing this with Marie, she can vouch for me.”

Another pair of footsteps was approaching. Crona prepared before Spirit appeared around the corner. His mouth dropped open.

“Oh shit. When did you get here?!”

Stein glared at him. “Spirit, get the f— hell out.”

“Get the fell out? Are you sure? Are—” He looked to Crona nervously. “Are you about to fight?”

“No,” said Stein.

Crona clenched their teeth. That made them mad for some reason... How little did Stein believe in their ability to hold their own? “Wh-wh...” Angry, holding a sword, Crona still couldn’t get a sentence out. Neither of them would take them seriously like this. “What were you d-d-discussing with Miss Marie?”

“Seriously Spirit,” Stein sighed, pushing his glasses up, “get out of here.”

“But—”

“If you stick around one more second I’m not gonna be able to stop myself from cursing up a storm in front of a child.”

If they started swearing at Stein, Crona wondered if that would make him take them more or less seriously. Probably less. It was probably better for them to say nothing. Spirit took one last uncertain look at Crona before leaving down the hallway.

“I have to start with a question,” said Stein. Crona didn’t like how calmly he was asking, but then again, he’d said it himself, he didn’t see Crona as a threat... “Have you ever considered the possibility of living individually? As in, as a separate being from your partner.”

Crona lowered Ragnarok. “No, never.”

“Never?” Stein repeated. “The thought has never once occurred to you?”

“Why do you ask.”

“Because I’ve been wondering lately if that would be possible,” was Stein’s answer. “Marie talking about you... it got me thinking again.”

“Is that something you could actually do?” asked Ragnarok. He left Crona’s hand. He liquified and appeared once again above Crona’s head.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up until I actually looked into it, but it’s not like I could keep it to myself after what you just overheard.” He reached up to turn his screw. Crona hated when he did that. “Did you catch the part where I said I wouldn’t do it without your permission?” 

Crona thought they did, but didn’t answer. “I could at least put time into researching this,” Stein continued, “if it’s something you were curious about.”

“You can’t,” Crona said. They didn’t know why the idea of it was twisting their stomach. Like he could just undo it. Like it was really so easy to just make everything... unhappen.

“Neither of us know for sure,” said Stein.

“No.” Crona was sure. “N-no! I don’t want this! I don’t want— _I don’t want you thinking about me!”_

“You would still be partners,” Stein said. “You would have separate bodies, that’s all. Ragnarok, have you ever considered the idea?”

Ragnarok snorted. “What are you gonna do, rip us in half?”

“No, I think that would be ineffective,” Stein answered. “I’m really only bringing this up as a thought question for now. But, Crona, you should really discuss it with your partner before flat out refusing.”

“Yeah, selfish idiot,” said Ragnarok, punching their head.

Crona grabbed his wrist before he could punch again. “We don’t _need to,”_ they said. There was nothing to discuss, nothing, why wasn’t Ragnarok panicking? “It’s not— it’s not possible! She wouldn’t have made it possible!” They started breathing fast— it had been a while since they’d been able to see Lady Medusa’s face so vividly in their memory. “You just want to take me apart, is that it? You’re not going to! I won’t let you!”

“I’m not going to do anything,” said Stein, raising his hands and backing away. “If that’s how you feel, I won’t give it another thought.”

“G... GOOD! STOP TAKING ME APART IN YOUR HEAD, I DON’T LIKE IT!”

“I understand how you feel.” Stein took a cigarette out of his pocket. “I’ll drop it, then. We should both go somewhere to calm down.”

Crona didn’t stop Stein as he turned down the hallway. They half wanted to, they wanted to keep yelling, telling him how useless it was, warning him not to even keep thinking about it— But what could they do?

What could they do?

Nothing. They couldn’t do anything. They could never do anything.

🩸 🩸 🩸

This was the end of Marie’s plan, Stein supposed. There was no way Crona was going to accept now that they were this terrified of him. He held a cigarette in his mouth and struck his lighter. It sparked, but didn’t do anything else. He struck it several times before repocketing it.

Spirit wasn’t far. Stein knew he wouldn’t be. He was waiting just within earshot, tensed up like an idiot. “Quick, I need a light.”

Spirit gave him his lighter. Stein lit his cigarette and took a long drag. He leaned back against the wall and watched the puffs of smoke rise to the ceiling. “Not to quote Crona, but I don’t fucking know how to deal with this.”

“Say you’re sorry and it won’t happen again?” Spirit suggested unhelpfully.

“My girlfriend will probably dump me if she hears about this. She’s taken a liking to the kid. She’s dead set on taking them in.”

Spirit looked at him incredulously. He obviously knew what that meant for Stein. The thoughts traveled across his face— _So does that mean you’re going to— Or is she moving out? Just how deep are you going to get sucked into this?_ But then Spirit smiled, and Stein had no idea what that meant. “Well, I think that’s great!” 

“Really...?”

Spirit clapped his shoulder and sighed. “That child needs a proper mother figure. If this hurts your chances, I’ll take them in! I miss the joys of being a parent and having Maka around...” He clasped his hands, Stein saw his thoughts again, memories he probably made up. “There’s nothing like having a doting child who looks up to you! And maybe if Crona comes to live with me, Maka will come around more often... They get along so well, that would make her so happy! They could be like siblings, wouldn’t that be _adorable?”_

“Yeah...” Stein didn’t know how to say this... “That’d be awkward as hell.”

“I know we fought once and there may have been some murderous intent on both sides, but ever since Medusa I’ve just been so mad...” Spirit sniffled. Was he crying...? “I’ve always thought... someone’s gotta do something.”

“You know Maka’s totally into them, right?”

Spirit chuckled and shook his head. “Oh Stein, there you go thinking that everyone is just like we were as teenagers... Besides. Maka’s not gay. If she was she would definitely be able to tell me.”

Stein took another long drag. Spirit frowned at him. “You don’t think Maka’s gay.” Stein didn’t dignify that with an answer. “She’s not!”

“You’re gonna have to take that up with your daughter.” Stein had gone here to get out of the worst conversation he’d had since he could remember. At home he’d have to face Marie, and an even more unpleasant conversation. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be talking about this. Yet out of all the people he could be talking to, this was somehow the least unpreferable. 

🩸 🩸 🩸

Crona ran. Without pausing for breath, they fled into the familiar, comfortably winding paths of the academy’s lower levels.

They didn’t know what else to do. They needed to get away, get safe, and their room was the nearest safe space, the nearest place they could have been sure to be alone and especially away from Stein. They didn’t want to think about the ways he imagined cutting them up and stitching them back together. They didn’t want to think about any plans he had to rip into their soul. They didn’t want to think about how Stein always seemed to take Crona apart in his mind. They especially didn’t want to think about whether or not he was fantasizing about separating them and Ragnarok all those times.

But it was all they could think about as they raced through the endlessly similar and winding corridors of the academy, taking turns without hesitation. They eventually stopped, winded and sweaty, in front of their door. Shaking with what they thought must have been relief, they opened the door to their room, ready to collapse into the corner and forget about the last hour.

They took a step inside but froze before letting go of the handle. _Someone messed with my room._ That lonely thought turned over again and again in their head. The small row of books they kept on their desk was gone. Their toothbrush and tube of paste was missing from their sink’s tiny counter. Their bed was sheetless, unmade, erasing any evidence they’d ever slept there. There was even a coating of dust over everything, thin but evenly applied.

_Did Miss Marie move me out of my room already? I was just here, did she move my stuff while Stein- NO! No, Miss Marie is nice, she wouldn’t do that. She said I could think about it, she said she’d give me time to think about it. She is patient and kind and wouldn’t lie to me even if she makes no sense..._

They took a step back out, leaving the door hanging open, and looked around to see a corridor that was only vaguely familiar in that it shared the same architectural design as the rest of the corridors in the school’s lower levels. The bricks and stones around them were not the bricks and stones they had grown accustomed to.

“This… this isn’t my room,” they whispered to themself.

Desperately, they dashed to the next door down and threw it open. An unused copy of their room, same as the previous: no sheets, no books, no meager personal possessions. They tried the next door and were greeted by an empty, soulless, dank room. The same thing happened for each of their next four desperate attempts at finding familiarity.

They couldn’t deny their shaking was from fear, then. They were lost. They were lost in the endless corridors and emptied copies of their room. They didn’t think they were capable of getting lost down here, not like how Miss Marie always complained. Even when they were wandering the deeper halls as Lady Medusa’s spy they never got lost. They were always able to backtrack by remembering the turns they took. They just had to calm down and think...

They dropped heavily onto the floor and ignored the painful way the wall scratched into their back. Their chest heaved. They tried to get their breathing under control, measuring their breaths the way Maka taught them, but it was impossible. They were too desperate for oxygen, too keyed up on stress, too worried about being alone where no one would find them until it was too late. No matter how they tried to regulate their breathing, they could barely get enough air to stave off the spots of darkness that encroached upon their vision and threatened to send them into unconsciousness.

_That’s what Stein wants._

They flinched away from the terrifying thought. It didn’t sound right to them, didn’t sound like what people here would do, but Stein had admitted to fantasizing about taking Crona apart, so what did they know? Passing out in the dungeons, alone and lost, was possibly the most vulnerable position they could have found themself in.

They shakily called out for Ragnarok and his familiar weight settled in their sweaty palm. The tip of Ragnarok’s blade wavered in the air, jumping to and fro unsteadily. It followed Crona’s line of sight as they looked back and forth down the hall, feeling exposed and vulnerable. They felt the push to find a room, any room, and hole up for protection, but with their only options being uncomfortable facsimiles of their own room, they were indecisively stuck.

The sound of footsteps jolted them back to their senses. They traveled closer from the direction they came from... Or was that the way they were going? They couldn’t remember. Regardless, they scrambled to their feet and ran in the opposite direction. Stein wasn’t an opponent they could fight. They’d lost to him before, so badly that he no longer considered them a threat. As much as that stung, he was right. There wasn’t anything they could do to hurt him. They wouldn’t be surprised if Stein had figured out a way to replicate what Lady Medusa did to them in her final fight.

Their vision blurred as they sprinted through the halls, moving so fast that sharp turns sent them barreling into walls, doubtlessly leaving bruises and scrapes beneath their robe for Ragnarok to patch up. They didn’t care. They needed to get away. Nothing mattered except getting away from Stein and his cold, invasive, dispassionate fantasies of dissecting them. They wouldn’t let themself be caught and taken apart again.

An uneven floor tile sent them crashing to the floor. They tried to catch themself on their hands but momentum sent them rolling heels over head. They rolled to a stop. The ceiling spun. They were vaguely aware that they were lying down, and acutely aware that they were very dizzy.

Too clear, though, were the still approaching footsteps, soft and padded and much too familiar. They drew closer and closer and Crona could do nothing but lay there. They wanted to get up and run farther or find a place to hide, but they were paralyzed. They waited helplessly as the footsteps got closer.

Finally, the figure of a person stepped into the dim light and it was so much worse than Crona could have prepared for. Lady Medusa stood above them, perfectly put together and unaffected by the spinning that plagued everything else they saw. Her expression was chilled anger, dispassionate as ever, and though she looked at Crona, she may as well have been looking at a particularly stubborn insect.

Their heart seized and their breath caught in their throat. They were struck completely still as tears leaked from their eyes. They waited for her to say or do something, anything, but she just looked at them with the same eyes they remembered seeing countless times from her lab’s table.

For an eternity they lay pinned by her even, unaffected gaze. They didn’t feel the passage of time, just the weight of her disappointed curiosity, their own aching body, and the wet warmth of tears down their cheeks.

The painful crack of a fist against their nose shattered through the haze. “Agh! Ragnarok what the hell?”

“FUCKING FINALLY! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to get your attention, dipshit? You have been laying here for fucking ever, for no goddamn reason! You won’t give me my own body but you’ll waste yours laying in the middle of a fucking hall? Get your worthless ass off the floor and feed me. I’m getting hungry,.” Ragnarok dug one hand into Crona’s nose and did his best to shake them with his other while he shouted. His arms were too tiny to lift Crona’s head off the floor, but it hurt all the same.

They sat up. The world had stopped spinning and their breathing had only a ragged edge to it, it was manageable now. They looked around abruptly, searching for Medusa, but found only an empty hall. An empty, unfamiliar, dimly lit hall, just like all the ones before. Before they could fall back into panic, Ragnarok punched their head again and growled,

“What’s the hold up? I’m only getting hungrier.”

“I don’t know where to go. I’m lost,” they replied.

“Seriously? Are you fucking stupid? We’ve lived here how long, and you’re still getting lost?”

His words eased the tight coils of anxiety from around their heart. “You know how to get back to our room?”

“Duh. Unlike you, I’m not a complete fucking idiot. Now stand up already. It’s uh… this way!” he declared, pulling their hair and pointing down the hall.

Crona didn’t know if that was the way they ran from or the way they were running, but they stood and followed Ragnarok’s directions. It hurt, but they didn’t care, they just wanted to get back to their room.

They forced themself forward through the doubt that Ragnarok had no clue where he was going, but sooner than they would have hoped, they finally made it back. Crona wasted no time curling into the corner behind the door, and finally let themself shut down.

🩸 🩸 🩸

Saturday should have come as a relief, but Stein seemed hardly rested. Marie didn’t think another cup of coffee was a good idea, but since she was up anyway, she poured him a third cup, just as he asked. He downed it quickly, but it didn’t seem to wake him up, just agitate him, judging by the way his fingers drummed on the table as if he was waiting for something terrible to happen.

Marie didn’t ask. She merely sat and sipped her own coffee. Stein looked at her. Marie raised her eyebrows, inviting him to be the one to start. He finally spoke. “I think you should check on Crona.”

“Crona?” Marie _really_ didn’t want to ask. “Why...?”

“Somebody should make sure they’re not hanging from a noose or anything like that. I don’t think they’d die, but they might hurt themself trying.”

“Did you have too much coffee? What the hell are you—”

Stein interrupted her. “I might have fucked up really bad yesterday, but to be fair, the likelihood of that happening was so far fetched that it’s hard to even blame myself.”

“Explain.”

Stein explained. Marie’s heart sank with each word. “So yeah,” he finished, “not sure what did it, but I imagine it was the part when I mentioned getting the original idea by recalling a hallucination of Medusa.”

“I... I mean...” It wasn’t that hearing this didn’t horrify her, but... “What were the odds?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling myself.”

Marie wanted to yell at Stein to fix this his damn self. But she knew as well as he did that he’d be at an utter loss. Stein was better with people when they were dead or unconscious. He could be a wonderful person, but... different people were equipped with different strengths. She had no time to waste. She had to get moving. She didn’t want to think about all the new wrinkles she’d have by the end of the week... the day, even.

If there was one thing she wasn’t equipped for, it was finding Crona. She could see the school, _that_ was easy to find, it was the giant building in the center of town with all the skulls on it. But even when her life depended on it, she could never find her way through the maze underneath. Every hall in the dungeons looked the same. If Crona was attempting suicide, she would probably die first down here.

If only they’d move in with her, then she would never have to do this again.

It took her a couple hours before she found the door. She knew that it must have been hours, because she was already getting hungry again. She knocked, worried about what she’d find.

There was no answer.

Marie was sure that this was the right door, it had the same patch of rust on it. “Crona?” she called. She knocked again. No answer. She grew anxious, but this was no time to hesitate. “I’m coming in,” she said.

She pushed the door open slowly. The room looked empty at first, but Marie knew better by now. She stepped inside and looked to the nearest corner. There was a dark shape there— She cautiously approached. Her eyes adjusted. She recognized Crona’s form, crumpled on the floor. Her insides seemed to disappear. But it shifted, just slightly.

They were asleep, not dead. Marie breathed out a long sigh of relief. She hesitated for a minute, not sure whether or not to disturb them. _That can’t be comfortable,_ she decided, _or good for their back._ She could wake them up so they could at least sleep in their bed. She bent down. She could just see a few wisps of hair peeking out from behind their arms. She touched their shoulder. 

“Crona...?”

“Mmh...” Crona stirred. They uncurled and blinked blearily up at her. “Miss Marie...? What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry for intruding.”

They gripped the wall and got to their feet. “Um, is there anything you need?”

Marie felt awkward. “I was just... worried about you.” Crona said nothing. “I should have just left you alone,” she sighed.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” They held their arms. They looked to the side, their expression unreadable. “You can come in whenever and do whatever you want to me, I guess.”

“Hey, I don’t want to do anything to you! That’s not what I want! That’s... that’s not what Stein wants either.” She didn’t know what to say. There were things that couldn’t be undone or unsaid. “The truth is, what Stein talked to you about yesterday, it was never anything we were seriously considering. It was an idea he brought up once. I don’t know if he was planning on ever taking it to you.”

“No,” Crona said, “just to his friends.” Marie bit her lip. “What would he even tell me for anyway?”

“Because we don’t just do experiments on people, that’s not how we work! What you’re used to is... it’s not normal. You don’t have anything to be scared of here.”

Ragnarok slithered out and glared at her over Crona’s shoulder. “That’s a big claim you just made. You’re talking about the dude who turns people into zombies!”

Crona jumped a foot in the air, colliding with the wall behind them. “Oh my god, is he gonna turn me into a zombie?!”

“N-no... No, he’s not going to turn you into a zombie.” She sighed. “He was... trying to do something nice, he means well, he just has a really weird way of showing he cares. I’ve known him since we were students here. Sure he did some weird stuff, but... he’s a weird guy. We feel guilty for not doing anything to help, and I...” Crona finally met her eye. “I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself until you’re okay.”

“Forgive yourself for what?” Crona sank back down to the floor. “I don’t want you to feel bad... Especially if it’s because of me... Then you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Ragnarok drooped over their shoulder. Even he seemed depressed. “It’s not a bad thing,” Marie said, “to have people care about you.”

“I still don’t understand... Are you saying that...” Their eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed in what seemed like confusion. “That Doctor Stein... cares? Or that... h-h-he...”

Marie found herself able to smile. “You know, you two have more in common than either of you would like to think. That’s why things seem so awkward.”

“What could we possibly have in common.”

“Well...” Marie knelt down in front of them. “You’re both determined, willing to do whatever it takes, and...”

“We were both easily manipulated by the same person.”

Marie’s heart clenched. All she wanted to do was pull Crona into a hug, but she wasn’t sure she had the right. “You both broke free of it,” she said softly. “The two of you understand each other in a way that no one else can. Maybe if you could talk about it...”

“I don’t want to talk about Lady Medusa with him.” Crona’s voice broke. They whimpered, utterly despaired, and hid their face in their knees.

Marie reached out, hesitantly. She rested her hand on their back. It was so tense. “You don’t have to,” she said, “but maybe you can help each other forgive yourselves. But if you’re so afraid... I can move somewhere else.”

“Why,” asked Crona.

“Because,” Marie said, “when you and Stein fell victim to the same evil, I decided one of you was worth saving more than the other. I made the wrong choice.”

She’d said she was sorry months ago. She’d poured her heart out as soon as she could and tried to make Crona understand how much she regretted what she did. Using them for their guilt. Gambling their life for her own selfish rescue mission. She’d thought Crona was alert enough to listen, but they’d just stared emptily back at her, repeating, _“Where’s Maka? We have to help Maka.”_ It was too soon. And every time after that was too late. So, no time like the present.

“But... you’re... together, aren’t you?” Crona asked, glancing up at her incredulously. “Don’t do that, if you even think about it more I won’t be able to deal with knowing I did that to you!”

“You know, you can date someone and not live with them. I just... hate seeing you in so much pain.”

Crona’s head bowed, their bangs concealing their eyes. They were still for a second. Then they spasmed. They gasped and shuddered— Marie drew back, alarmed— She hadn’t meant to make them start sobbing so violently. Or were they laughing...? Or both?

“Pain? What’s pain? It doesn’t exist.” They _sounded_ amused. “It’s just a bunch of nerves reacting... I don’t know why she didn’t remove my pain receptors. Could she have done that? Is it all just... that easy?” They uncurled, leaning back against the wall, an absent smile on their face. A tear rolled down their cheek. “Is it all just a circle in the sand? You can just... Or is that only the lines I draw? If any line I draw can be erased, is it the same for every other line?”

“What... _lines?”_

“The ones Lady Medusa put me in,” Crona explained matter of factly. Their eyes snapped to hers sharply. “You see, I’m the demon sword. My blood is black. That’s what I know, Miss Marie, that my blood is black.”

“I think... I understand,” said Marie. “No, it isn’t like a line in the sand. Some lines can’t be erased... but they’ll fade over time.” Her hand hovered over their back. She dared to put her arm around their shoulders. “And maybe you can’t erase it, but you can draw over it. You are _not_ the lines that witch drew. You can go anywhere you want. And if you don’t know where to go... you can let other people guide you. I guess it’s kind of funny...”

“What part of any of this is funny,” asked Crona.

“Just that I have a terrible sense of direction,” Marie said, smiling in spite of herself at the irony, “and here I am saying I’m going to guide you. But if I remember correctly, you have a good sense of... literal direction?”

“I think... I have an average sense of direction... maybe...” Marie saw the mad sense of amusement fade. “I don’t really know what’s average...”

“Then can we help each other?” asked Marie. “If you haven’t noticed, I can be kind of all over the place... I could use someone focused like you.”

Crona blinked. “Focused?”

“Yeah,” Marie said, finally feeling a little more sure of herself, “you’re focused. And... I want to help, but if having you live with me isn’t how I can do that, then... there are other things I can do. You can talk to me. About _anything.”_

Crona tensed under her arm. They looked doubtful. _No they can’t,_ Marie realized with a sinking feeling. _Not to me. Not now. Maybe never._ How could they trust her after she demanded the world from them to earn her own trust? “For now, could you do me a favor?”

“Okay,” said Crona.

“Could you, um...” She chuckled awkwardly. “Could you come outside with me? I’m worried I’m never going to see the light of day again.”

“Um, yeah...”

Marie got to her feet. Crona pulled themself up before she could offer her help. They looked exhausted, like they didn’t sleep at all last night. But they did seem eager to help.

“Thank you,” Marie said, really meaning it. They shuffled ahead of her, leading the way out of the labyrinth. She wondered if she’d really helped, if she ever could help them draw over those lines. Crona was a poet, she wondered if they’d written something that they couldn’t erase. That was probably it. Even lines drawn in pencil were impossible to fully erase if drawn with too much conviction. But if one wrote too softly _all_ the time, then it would all be too faded. Drawing deep lines took risk... 

Marie was proud of herself for thinking like a poet. Maybe she was finally beginning to understand them. Maybe someday... things would be okay. She smiled from behind, where Crona couldn’t see her. Soon enough, they were out. Marie felt a little hopeful, watching them walk into the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, anyone remember they were supposed to hang out with Maka? Poor girl. I started naming chapters because the next chapter's name is the most important.
> 
> BIG BIG thank you to Ren for writing this whole panic attack scene because i just wrote a bare bones little coupla paragraphs and I was like "JUST FUCK ME UP!" So, thank you again, Ren.
> 
> Big Croma moments coming to make up for this utter bummer!


	3. That's Love, Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maka questions her feelings. Soul doesn't know what there is to question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put in a reference at the end of chapter 1 to something I mention in this one that I forgot to mention earlier: Crona brings Maka flowers all the time. Just, all the time, like a cat that’s always bringing shit like socks and dead things to their favorite person. Basically “Maka, a flower!” has been living in my head rent free for approximately a decade.

Soul could read Maka’s shitty mood, she didn’t have the power to hide it from him. It was less soul resonance and more grumbling and snapping at him more than he deserved. Sunday morning she finally yelled at him for asking why she didn’t make breakfast for both of them.

“What am I, your housewife?!”

“You coulda just cracked another egg!” Soul yelled indignantly. He checked the refrigerator for eggs. There were plenty more, but Maka hadn’t _felt_ like making more. “I woulda done it for you.”

“Then go scramble all the eggs while you’re at it!”

Soul grabbed a carton of milk. He glared over it at her. “Who pissed in your morning coffee?”

“Shut up.” Maka slammed her plate down on the table. Eggs went flying. “Ugh! Gross.”

“You want me to make you another one?” asked Soul. “Because _I’m_ a nice roommate?”

Maka rolled her eyes, but she didn’t say no. She ate angrily until Soul walked over with the frying pan. He unceremoniously dumped a spatula’s worth of eggs onto her plate. “You burned them,” Maka commented.

“Damn, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Soul sat across from her and ate directly out of the frying pan. “You’re even pissier than usual. The hell’s going on?”

Maka _was_ pissier than usual, and behind her irritation, she knew she was being unfair. “I got stood up,” she admitted. “Crona was supposed to come over last Friday and they never showed. If they had a good reason, I thought they’d at least call.”

“What’s this about, were you gonna confess or something?”

“I was gonna ask...” Maka was shy admitting it, she nudged her eggs around her plate, feeling dumb about this whole thing. “I was planning on just... straight up asking how they felt.”

“How _they_ felt?” Soul pointed the spatula, spraying more eggs around. “That’s such a coward move! You gotta confess your own feelings instead of putting it totally on Crona.”

“But I still don’t— I’m just not sure, I don’t know what it’s like to have feelings for someone.” 

“Then _throw away all the dead flowers lying around the apartment.”_

“No!” Maka cried. “Crona spent hours picking all of those!”

“That’s love, bitch!”

“Then why’d they just blow me off?” Maka asked. “I was psyching myself up!”

“Psyching yourself up to be a coward!”

“Hey,” Maka said, frowning at him, “don’t call me a bitch!”

“Tch, that was delayed.”

Soul took the frying pan and Maka’s plate to the sink. Then he grabbed the broom, and looked at Maka the whole time as he swept, as though to say _watch me pick up everyone’s messes again._ Even if he was being obnoxious about it, he _was_ doing more than his fair share. When she was feeling a little better, she’d thank him for keeping the place decent.

“This is driving me so nuts,” Soul said, dumping the last of the eggs into the trash, “that _I’m_ starting to question my own feelings. I’m giving you until the end of this week... or else _I’m_ gonna confess.”

 _Confess?_ Maka’s irritation was replaced with confusion as she watched him. Was there something about Soul she didn’t know about? Someone he had feelings for? Had she been so focused on herself that she’d ignored this somehow...?

Her eyes went wide with understanding. _No,_ she thought, then, _damn it, I should have known._ “I can’t believe it,” she muttered, fingers clenching, “guys are such trash.”

“I know, all we care about is the body,” Soul sighed.

“Soul, please,” Maka pleaded with him, “you’re the _last_ man on Earth I can trust. Please don’t try and tell me now you were just... into me the whole time.”

Soul snorted. Maka’s hands curled into fists. She got ready to start throwing. “Nah,” he said carelessly, “I was talking about Crona.” He smirked at her. “You thought I was talking about you? Ha. Fuckin’ narcissist.”

Maka blinked. “What.” _Crona...?_

“Listen.” He sauntered over. Leaned against the table. “I tried to look at this all from your perspective. I thought about Crona walking out on you but specifically, I thought about them walking away. And then, I thought, I get it.”

“What the _hell_ are you talking about.”

“As I was watching them walk away...” Soul gesticulated as though he was explaining something very simple. “I thought, I can’t be completely mad because that is one hell of an ass! If you don’t want it, Maka, I’ll take it.”

Maka felt herself flush a deep red, either from anger, embarrassment, or a mix of the two. “Are you... you’re joking, right?”

“Good question,” said Soul. “You know what, I’m gonna ask them out and then I’ll decide.”

“NO!” Maka yelled. “Ugh! What is _wrong_ with you?!”

“Don’t pretend you can’t see it, I know you’re not blind. It’s like a stick, and then...” Maka didn’t like what he was doing with his hands. Whatever shape he was making in the air.

“I’ll kick _your_ ass!”

“Do it, coward!”

Soul was having the fucking time of his life and not bothering one bit to hide how much he was enjoying himself. He kept on giggling when Maka knocked her chair over and kicked him in the back. It _did_ make her feel a little better. And she realized he was right, she was the one making all the coward moves, which were no moves at all. She’d invited Crona over to talk, planning on making them do all the talking. And then she’d waited for them to be the one to call.

She knew better than this. Maka knew that if you wanted something in life, you had to reach for it yourself. She just wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted. Putting it as simply as _I have a crush on Crona_ wasn’t it. It couldn’t be it. She cared, a lot. She’d watched them get skewered alive. She’d thought for a horrifying few minutes that they’d died because of her. That was why she felt a deep ache in her stomach when she thought about them late at night. That was why she liked to read the notes they wrote her over and over again, and keep all the rotting flowers, even though they smelled like death. It was a reminder that they were alive. That they were okay.

And things _would_ be okay, she wouldn’t embarrass herself by calling them up and forcing this. She’d see them at school the next day, and they’d work things out. Crona always made Maka feel sure of herself. She wouldn’t be pushy, not if she didn’t have to be.

Maka spent the rest of the day closed in her room, trying to focus on schoolwork. She’d missed the time in her life when she could get lost in her studies. She’d had a goal— keep her grades consistent. Grow her partner into a death scythe. Always aim higher. But her grades had gone down since the battle with the kishin. She hadn’t been able to shake the purveying sense of pointlessness, always nagging at her, asking, _what am I supposed to do now? Does any of this still matter anymore?_

It sucked, not to have a clear goal in mind. That was why she was stressing about the little things. It was why everything was making her mad.

But she didn’t see Crona the next morning. They wandered upstairs sometime in the afternoon, looking like they’d just woken up. They didn’t say anything to Maka. Irritation bubbled back up. Sure, she shouldn’t count on them to be the one to breach the subject, but they wouldn’t so much as look at her. She let it go that day.

They were on time for morning classes the next day. But they ditched Stein’s class. Disappeared and then returned as soon as it was over as though nothing had happened. She decided to speak up.

“You shouldn’t keep ditching class. You don’t wanna get held back a year.”

“Huh?” Crona said. “Held... back?”

“Yeah. You can’t progress if you don’t take any responsibility.” Then again, if the rest of her friends managed to pass every semester, she probably shouldn’t be that worried. “If you wanna graduate together, you should start focusing more.”

“Mmh...”

Maka’s mouth twitched in annoyance. She raised her hand and flicked Crona in the middle of their forehead. “Ow!” they cried, hands flying to the spot. “That hurt! What was that for?”

“You’re not listening to anything!” Her irritation faded. She was mad at herself instead. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hurt you...”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, a little,” Maka admitted. “You never apologized for blowing me off Friday night. What happened?”

Crona looked very confused for a moment, then merely shrugged. “I forgot.”

“You forgot.” _How convenient for you._

“I’m sorry. It was important, wasn’t it?”

“No,” Maka sighed, “not really.”

She wouldn’t be the one to push if she was the only one giving, Maka firmly decided. Besides, it _wasn’t_ important. It was stupid. “They’re not overthinking this too much,” she later reported to Soul, “so why should I?”

Soul called her a coward again. She ignored that, shoving her irritation down with the rest of her feelings. When she got home from school that day she picked up a bunch of the rotting flowers to throw away.

She paused over the trash can. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

The next day, Maka caught Soul attempting to take matters into his own hands. She caught him in the yard staring up at Crona intently. “I think you’re wrong,” Crona was saying, “she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Then I’ll talk to you.” Soul threw his arm forcefully around Crona’s shoulders. He half dragged Crona along with him. “How’s it going, bud? Let’s catch up.” Maka thought that neither of them saw her there, but Soul turned around to smirk at her. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said to Crona, “do you do squats?”

“Squats...? Gross, squatting looks weird!”

“So then what do you do to... Nevermind. You and Maka been hanging out lately? You should really hang out. Come on over sometime.”

“She’s mad at me, she told me. I think she hates me now.”

“I see.” He fixed Crona with a sad look. “Then your ass is mine.”

_“What?”_

“I said that’s asinine.”

Maka marched over and pulled Soul off of them. “That’s enough out of you,” she said. She dragged him back across the yard. She thought Crona would follow them, but when she turned to look, they were walking away. She watched with an odd fascination. Now that Soul had said it, she realized he had a point. Crona was so skinny, that robe hugged their waist so tight, that it made the width of their hips extremely prominent. They swayed slightly as they walked. It was hard to look away.

Soul clapped a hand on her shoulder. Maka jumped. She’d forgotten he was there. “I knew you saw it too.”

“You’re such a perv,” Maka muttered, looking away to hide the redness creeping into her face.

“Clock’s ticking, Maka. Getting less ironic by the day.”

Maka doubted Soul was being serious, but it was _really_ hard to tell. She told herself it was nothing to worry about as the week drew to a close. Soul wouldn’t piss her off that much just for a joke.

But maybe something he’d said had paid off, because the next day, Crona approached her in the hall.

“Maka,” they said, grabbing onto her sleeve, head bowed. It was earnest gestures like that that made her so confused. “I’m sorry. I made you upset and... I want to spend time with you. I do. What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I’m not mad at you.” She wasn’t. Not right now. She couldn’t be, with Crona clutching her sleeve. “You can still come over, whenever you want. We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” asked Crona.

Maka hesitated. It _wasn’t_ all that important, and she’d been acting like a total jerk all week. She didn’t even want to talk about anything in particular, she just wanted to talk. _Do you still want to try a french braid?_ she wanted to ask. Instead, she told them, “My mama sent me a new postcard. After school, do you wanna help me figure out where to put it?”

“Yes. I can do that.”

“Then I’ll see you.”

She felt lighter as she left. She didn’t have to worry about Crona skipping out again, they walked back with her and Soul, and Black Star and Tsubaki until they reached their street. As they arrived, Maka suddenly remembered the state of the apartment. There were probably still eggs in the corners. She hurriedly led Crona through the kitchen and into her room.

Thank goodness for the new postcard. She didn’t know what it said, or where it was sent from. It was a picture of a plain, small stone wall with the clearest blue sky in the background. It lay on her desk, right in front of the framed postcard with that word, _bravery._

“Here.” She picked it up. “I don’t know what it means, but mama always sends me postcards with some kind of message. It’s fun, it’s like going on a treasure hunt!”

A single word was printed on it, a very long word, with mysterious, magical looking letters. The wall looked very old. The people in front of it were draped in white, like ghosts. Crona squinted at it. Maka handed it over and they peered at it closely, holding it directly in front of their nose.

“I know this,” they said.

“Do you know where it is?”

“No, this language, I’ve seen it before. Remember the golem we faced?”

Of course she remembered, but she hadn’t been paying attention to any written words. There’d been a lot more going on. “Is it some kind of witch language?”

“No, I don’t think so. It says...” Maka waited with bated breath. “That’s... there’s two of the short one, I think that’s a Y sound...” They sighed, finally, letting their hand fall to their side in defeat. “Sorry, I can’t read it.”

“That’s okay.” Maka tried to mask her disappointment as she placed the postcard back down on her desk so she could take out her scrapbook. Maybe Stein would know. He seemed to know all kinds of languages. She set her book down on the floor and opened up to the last page. It was nearly empty. “Where do you think it would look good? I think it might contrast nicely next to somewhere with a night sky. I also like to group by region sometimes, but I’m not sure what region this is. It seems dry, what do you think?”

“Why can’t you ask your mother?” Crona stared back down intently at the message. “What it says, I mean. I get that it might be fun to figure out, but... why can’t she just talk to you? She could write. She could say something to you.”

Maka didn’t know how to answer, because she’d had that question so many times before. _It’s like a treasure hunt_ was what she’d told herself years before, and it had helped, it had made it easier. It had made her feel less alone. “She leaves little clues. There’s always a message...”

“Why doesn’t she ever visit?” Crona’s eyebrows drew together. “Is she really busy all the time?”

Maka tried to explain. “Her line of work is really dangerous. She can’t tell me where she is, and there’s not a lot she can say... But it helps. Every postcard, it’s a piece of her.” Her finger hovered over one she’d gotten months ago, between _bravery_ and whatever this new mysterious message was. Sometimes there were days between postcards, sometimes months. “You know the one I have on my desk? I brought that with me when we fought Medusa. I had a piece of her with me, it gave me the strength to do what I needed. My... my mama cares, that’s why she doesn’t involve me.”

“Is it really anything you can’t handle?” Crona asked.

Maka’s eyes stung. All the tension threatened to burst, not just from last week, but from all the months since the battle against the kishin. Through all that pain, all that fear, where her mother lent her her strength from thousands of miles away. She bit her lip and swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry, if it’s hard to talk about, then—”

“I’ve made my peace with it,” said Maka. She held back the tears. “I’ve accepted a long time ago that my one good parent is going to be in and out of my life. When things get hard, this helps me, and I feel like I’m being judged for that.”

“I didn’t mean... to come across that way,” Crona said quietly.

“I don’t know why I care so much.” Maka let an angry tear roll down her cheek. “Maybe I just really wanted to show you what a good mother could be, but instead I have to justify my feelings to you.”

“I’m trying to understand.” Crona scanned the postcards. Maka could see them trying. It made it hurt more, that they had to work so hard to. “I guess it sounds really complicated... There’s a lot I don’t know. I don’t know _how_ to judge. I _want_ to like her...”

They trailed off. “I want you to like her too,” Maka said, wiping her eyes. “I want you to meet each other. I feel like that’s the only way you’d get it. But... it’s okay if you don’t understand.” She shut the book and held it to her chest.

“Well... you definitely care a lot, and I don’t want to make you feel bad about loving your own mother...”

Was that what they’d said? Maka wasn’t entirely sure. “Nobody else has to understand,” she said. “I was hoping you would, but I can’t ask that of you.”

“I... I-I-I...” Crona just stammered until a lot of words burst out quickly. “I don’t know what to do, I’m a bad friend, I’m trying so hard to listen but there’s so much I’m thinking about now! I wanna keep myself open but I don’t know how, and now you’re mad at me _don’t_ say you’re not, I _know_ you’re upset and I can’t deal with that right now! I can’t deal with you being mad at me, not on top of everything else!”

Maka put her scrapbook aside to reposition herself. She folded her legs. “Are you okay?”

“No! So much is happening but I don’t wanna just start talking about myself!”

“I’m... I’m confused,” Maka said. “Things have been kinda slow for once...” At least for her, at least that was what was putting her so on edge. “What’s going on? And— let’s skip the part where you try and dance around it, I wanna hear.”

“I...” Crona conceded with a sigh. “Miss Marie, a while ago... she asked me to live with her. And Doctor Stein thinks... that... that...” Crona was shaking. Maka rested her hand on top of theirs. “He thinks... he could take the black blood out of me.”

Maka gripped their hand. “He can do that?”

“He doesn’t really know. He hasn’t researched it, but... I don’t really know how far he’s thought. But he thinks it’s possible... that me and Ragnarok... can be separated...”

“That’s amazing!” Crona looked at her, surprised. “When was this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry, it just shut my brain down and I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”

“That’s _really_ okay.” Maka smiled. “I can’t believe it... But I guess if anyone can do it, it’s Professor Stein!”

“Well, you’re a lot happier about it than I am.” They pulled their hand away. Maka scooted back. “I just don’t know, I can’t remember ever being alone.”

“You wouldn’t be alone,” said Maka, “you’d have all your friends! And besides, you’d still be partners, right?”

“It’s just one of those things that’s really hard to explain. I don’t know why I’m so terrified just thinking about it.”

Maka didn’t think it was that hard. She could understand, to some extent. “It’s scary. You’d be a lot more vulnerable. But it sounds like a fair trade off to get Ragnarok off your back. _Literally.”_

“No, you don’t understand,” said Crona. They clenched their hands hard on their lap. “I don’t know if even _I_ understand.”

“Then... maybe we can figure that out.”

Crona looked at the book she shut. “But you want to talk too,” they said. “You wanted to talk to me the other day and I didn’t come.”

“Whatever, that can wait. I wanna talk about this a lot more.”

Maka nudged away the scrapbook. She leaned forward. Crona hugged their body tight. “I’ve been like this ever since I can remember. Remember... when you asked me who I was... I told you who I was. It was the only thing I knew about myself.”

“I... don’t remember, actually,” Maka admitted. “Maybe refresh my memory?”

“Just... that I was the demon swordsman,” Crona said.

 _Demon swordsman Crona._ They’d introduced themself with all the certainty and determination Maka could want from an archnemesis. “The last time we ever fought? That was a really long time ago. You’ve had time to figure things out. You’re more than just the demon swordsman.” She smiled at them until they met her eye. “You’re a student. You’re a poet. And...” She reached out. Crona didn’t flinch back, so she took one of their hands. “You’re my friend.”

Crona’s eyes bore into hers. Maka ran her thumb across their hand. Neither of them had the answers, but maybe, if they stayed here like this, it wouldn’t matter. She couldn’t remember what she’d been so stressed out about, but it definitely didn’t matter now. Crona finally looked away, their face twisting into an awkward smile.

“So if I get rid of my black blood, I’m... a poet. I guess that’s something.”

“There’s a million other hobbies you could pick up. Just hang around long enough and maybe you’ll find something else you like doing!”

“I don’t wanna burden you guys by having you drag me around all the time...”

“It’s no burden, I like spending time with you!”

Something in Crona’s body seemed to untighten. Maka spent the next couple hours rambling on, brainstorming hobbies, with Crona giving voice to thoughts and worries for each. But it seemed to relax them more than discussing all the fears and implications that Maka could only begin to see the surface of. There were other things that were important in life. The little things. She wondered if Crona would like knitting. They liked sitting alone, liked quiet, but Crona was worried about the needles.

“They’re not actually sharp.”

“I could use bloody needle... but what if it ripped through...”

The thought depressed Crona, so Maka tried to suggest, “Maybe... Soul could teach you piano?”

“I’ve never actually heard him play on a real one.”

They were right, how long had it been since she’d heard Soul actually play the piano for real...? She craned her neck to straighten it, and noticed the moon leering at her from outside her window. “It’s getting late,” she said.

“I should go.”

“Or you could stay the night. I wouldn’t mind.”

Crona tensed again. “No, I have too much to think about.”

Maka walked them to the door. Soul was there in the kitchen, sitting at the table. He got up and joined her. “What’d you guys talk about,” he asked.

“Maka...” Crona said, “...could you help me?”

Maka told Soul what she knew, about both the black blood and Crona’s potential living situation. He was as surprised as she was. “Damn,” he said. “I think you should do it.”

“Which part,” Crona asked.

“First, get the hell out of the dungeon. What are you still doing there?”

“It’s... familiar...” Crona fidgeted. “I don’t really want to think about anything too much. But... Miss Marie said that... She wouldn’t forgive herself until I was okay.”

Maka thought about her. She recognized her by her sweet smile, and all the yellow she wore. That disposition made it easy to forget. But Maka could never forget all those weeks Crona spent locked up. Old resentment rose up. “Good,” she said.

“Huh...?”

“She owes you,” said Maka. “It’s the least she could do.”

“Yeah,” added Soul, “I’m not one to hold grudges, but I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t let that one go.”

Maka was glad he spoke up. She needed a voice of reason to hold her up. The more people who spoke up, maybe, the harder it would be for Crona to believe that any of it was their fault. They muttered something incomprehensible, maybe some sound of thanks as they opened the door. Feeling bold, Maka stood on her toes and kissed their cheek.

“I’m always gonna be here for you.”

Crona’s cheeks blushed a bright pink. “Th-thank you...”

“Me too,” Soul spoke up behind her. “Me ‘n Maka are always here, alright? And we’re not the only ones.”

“Thank you,” Crona repeated. “Thank you both, so much...”

“You should come around more often. If you keep less to yourself, then you’ll have a better idea of what you wanna do. Sometimes you just gotta force yourself to get out. So.” Soul pushed past Maka. “Stop tryna get out of game night, got it?”

“Y-yeah, I got it. Thanks. Again.”

“Shit, do you need someone to walk you back?”

“Um...” Crona looked back and forth between the two of them. 

Maka smiled at Soul. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten, this was surprisingly thoughtful of him!

“‘Cause I’m fine with following behind.”

“I’ll do it!” Maka yelled. “Just... let me get my coat. I’ll be right back.”

Maka hurried back to her room to grab her coat and gloves. Instead of keeping Crona company, Soul followed after her. “You two really talked things out,” he muttered.

“No we didn’t,” said Maka. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Aw fuck, I gotta suffer even more?” He groaned. “What’s next, making out as friends? With tongue?”

Maka elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Shut _up.”_

🩸 🩸 🩸

Stein glanced uneasily at the cup of tea in front of him. Lord Death sat across, sipping his casually through his mask. Clouds swirled all around, the death room was as bright as ever. But Stein couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in trouble somehow.

It was completely unreasonable, but his nerves were wound tight from the events of last week. Crona hadn’t looked him in the eye since, but Marie assured him that they were okay. Or at least not in danger of harming themself or others. Stein wanted to forget about the ordeal and never have to face the kid again.

But this wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Frankly, Stein welcomed the distraction.

“How ya doin?” Lord Death asked. Eloquent as ever.

 _Why did you want to see me_ was too sterile for a position he was used to being in. “Good.”

“Heard your mind was slipping back into dark places. So, you were thinking about doing some janky experiments on Crona, huh?”

Stein had no suspicion that this was what any of this was about— if he’d started drinking his tea, he would have spit it out. “I had the ghost of an idea. It’s been blown way out of proportion. I had no plan to act on it.” Stein couldn’t imagine Crona going to Lord Death with such a concern, so how did he...

 _Spirit._ Damn the man. 

“Well,” said Death, “I for one think it’s a peachy idea! I invite you to get started as soon as possible, and you’re welcome to use academy resources for this project!”

“That’s generous of you to offer,” said Stein suspiciously.

“I have one condition! Well, a few conditions wrapped in one big condition. I want you to monitor them closely. I think it’s about time to give the kid a change of scenery. I’m planning on moving them into your place, so start thinking about how you’ll redecorate.”

Stein froze, trying to process all this. “Why,” was all he could manage while the information was still computing.

“Oh come on, teenagers aren’t so bad! They only make you yearn for the days when they were tiny and cute and less of a wreck, but you’re the best meister this academy has ever seen, I’m sure you can handle it!”

Doubtful, and Stein wasn’t sure what one had to do with the other. Besides, that wasn’t what he wanted to know. “What stake do you have in this.”

“Oh come on, I can’t just be a nice, caring big guy?”

Stein finally took a gracious sip of tea. 

“Quick to cut to the chase, alright. Well! Things have settled, as you can see.” Lord Death gestured around to all the clouds. Stein remembered when the room had been totaled. “And now that we’ve got some downtime, we should take advantage of this situation. Crona is a unique student.”

“A weapon and meister hybrid,” said Stein.

“Yeah yeah, we’ve been through that.” Lord Death waved that away. “Without being a demon sword, Crona is a potential source of something very powerful and dangerous.”

“So you want me to separate the black blood,” Stein asked, preferring to get to the point, “and see if we can use it to our advantage?”

“Nah, black blood is old news.” Lord Death waved that one away too. “I was talking about magic.”

“Right,” said Stein, eyes narrowing.

“What color does Crona’s soul look like to you?” asked Death.

“It fluctuates,” Stein answered. He knew what Lord Death was asking now. He’d seen Crona’s soul appear a pale shade of purplish pink, but its presence had never been as powerful and threatening as that of a true witch. A witch’s soul was more than a color. “You’re wondering if they’ll grow to become a witch, or if they are one already?”

“I’m concerned more about, erm, taking preemptive measures.” Lord Death nodded at himself. “Crona is related to the heretic witch Arachne, the very reason this academy was founded. When they first joined us, I didn’t think there were any glaring similarities, not enough to divert our attention. So, you know...” He shrugged. “We just tossed them in the dungeon and kind of forgot about them since.”

“Not everyone,” Stein said, thinking of Marie.

“Crona seems to be under control now, but they’re an adolescent potential witch with an unstable emotional state. For that reason, I feel it would be best to separate the witch from the weapon.”

“For everyone’s safety?” Stein asked.

“And I’m sure the kid would appreciate it. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you, Stein!”

Him, or perhaps the witch Medusa. She’d tampered with a person’s body to the point of no return... at least that she could envision, Stein imagined. But if anyone would know how to _undo_ what she did, who else would have that kind of knowledge?

“If it does fail,” Stein mused, allowing his mind to finally work freely through the possibilities, “Ragnarok would be more likely to survive. Is it the witch you want on your side, or the one you want eliminated?” His hand twitched. He wanted to reach for his bolt, but he didn’t want to look too nervous.

“Eliminated? Whoa, we’re the good guys!” Death waved his hands. “Crona is a good ally! They’re a friend of the academy! I never thought we’d have a witch on our side, it’s great. So...” He pressed his hands together. “We give Crona a nice new place to live in and their own body, and _we_ get to prevent any possibility of them using the black blood to fly into a dangerous rampage! Everybody wins!”

Perhaps opening his big mouth hadn’t been what brought all this up, then. Stein had forgotten that Crona was related to Arachne. Their connection to Medusa was much more prominent, and much more personal. He’d hardly given their other relations a thought. Now that the information had finished computing, Stein wondered why they hadn’t acted sooner. Then again, he’d never sensed a threat.

“Are you that afraid of Crona?”

“Oh, hardly,” Lord Death said. “I think Crona is mostly harmless. That’s why this arrangement should work out great! If they start developing magical powers, you’ll have someone very close by to study magic from. Instead of having to do extensive research, you can directly ask them questions! I’m not asking for anything sinister, just observe. Learn everything you can.”

“Like what,” asked Stein.

“The basics,” answered Death simply. “What they like to eat, favorite subject, color... what makes them tick. This should be a fun challenge for you, Stein!”

“A mental dissection.” Taking somebody apart without leaving a mark. If such a dissection were carried out improperly, the effects could be more damaging and long lasting than one that left physical scars. “That’s never been my forte.”

“Just sit down and chat. Say, how are you! What’s going on in your life! Who’s your father? Whatever teenagers talk about these days, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Stein raised an eyebrow. “You have a son. Surely you must have some idea of how he interacts with his friends.”

Lord Death nodded. “I _do_ have a son! He and Crona are friends. And they’re both friends with Maka, wouldn’t it be nice if you and me and Spirit could organize a playdate for all of them and we can sit back with a couple of beers? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

“No, we aren’t! Having a teenager may make you second guess yourself at every turn and reassess your trauma, but it’s all very rewarding in the end, I’m sure of it!”

“I guess that settles it,” said Stein quietly. Marie wouldn’t have to compromise after all.

“Yes, Marie will be doing most of the work, I suppose,” Lord Death said. “Crona will be safer close to the influence of her stabilizing wavelength. But, between the two of us...” His body twisted comically as he glanced around the room. He leaned across the table. “It’ll probably be better for everyone if we don’t involve her in our research.”

“You want me to keep the truth from her.”

“I just want to keep everyone happy.”

Stein reached up to turn his bolt. It _would_ make her happy, and like Lord Death said, they weren’t planning anything sinister. Still, despite the friendly atmosphere, Stein was aware that these were orders.

“She has a very important job to fulfil in all of this, but I’m counting on you to be impartial,” Death implored him.

So, not like a father at all, but an observer. As recently as a year ago, the thought would not have made him so uneasy. People were meat, and the brain was just another organ. But thoughts like that made it easy to be pulled into madness.

“Works out for you, huh?” Lord Death said pleasantly. “So glad we can find an arrangement that makes everybody happy!”

Damn Spirit and his eagerness to please his boss. Stein supposed he couldn’t keep secrets with the man anymore. He’d chew him out, and then ask him how to breach the idea to Marie. He had to figure out how to tell her without sounding uncharacteristically enthusiastic about her dreams of playing house, or like he had any ulterior motive.

Marie didn’t take well to being betrayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always call this fic “Blood Transfusion AU” even though it’s not an AU. The only thing that makes it an AU is that this is an alternate universe where the word “truth” was written in that golem in Hebrew instead of awkwardly transliterated English. If FMA can do it, I don’t see why not.
> 
> I love giving Crona approximate knowledge of many things.
> 
> Crona may not know what a good mom is supposed to look like, but they know smth seems sus about Maka’s mom. God that part in the anime was hilarious.


	4. My Chemical Resonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crona questions what they’re worth on their own. Maka tries her best to help them answer questions about their identity by sharing a personal secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’re welcome, emo kids.

The beach was cloudy. The ocean was too cold to swim in. There was nothing to do here, even the sand was too muddy to kick up. The whole place was empty, save for one small child. But they were used to it, mostly. They didn’t need to look around and survey the landscape. They just looked at the ground, where very faintly, cast by the weak light, they could see their shadow lengthening.

They watched its eyes open. “Hello, Crona,” said the shadow.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” said the child. “There’s barely enough light for a shadow today.”

“I thought you’d know to expect me by now when you’re doing nothing. We haven’t seen much of each other lately, have we?”

Crona dug their toe into the sand.

“There are so many people you can talk to,” the shadow went on, “but you can’t even talk to yourself. The circle is gone. Where did everyone go?”

Crona felt like they knew the answer, but they weren’t in the mood for talking. The shadow tilted its head to one side. “Who are you?”

Crona crouched down. Their knees got soaked by the mud. They drew a line in the sand.

“After all this time, you still can’t answer that?” asked the shadow.

Crona drew another line.

“You’re not nobody,” said the shadow, “look all around you. There’s an ocean. There’s a sky. There’s me.”

 _It’s never been my friend,_ Crona thought. “I know how hard it is to believe that there’s anything more to see,” the shadow continued. “But the ocean hasn’t gone away. And neither has the sun, it’s just behind the clouds right now. Things have already changed so much, beyond the point of ever going back. Doesn’t that give you a little bit of hope?”

Crona drew a third line.

“I have an idea,” the shadow spoke. “How about you try asking _me_ some questions?”

“Wouldn’t that be the same?” Crona asked.

“Not entirely. Go on, ask me something. I’m not the only one with questions.”

Crona wanted to pass again. They looked at the shadow’s barely visible form. “Who are you?” they asked it.

“I’m Crona,” answered the shadow.

 _Right,_ Crona thought, _that’s what it said before._

“You’ve never once asked about me,” said the shadow. “Do you want to take a guess?”

“Not really.”

The shadow hung its head. “That’s alright,” it whispered, “I’m used to being ignored.” Crona felt a slight twinge in their heart as they listened to the waves. “Let’s try something different,” the shadow continued. “I won’t ask you anything specific. Just tell me three things you know.”

Crona sighed. _I’d rather do nothing._ “How about just one?” said the shadow. “When everything else is gone, there has to be something you’ll still be sure about.” Crona stared hard at the three lines they drew. “Even if you ignore me, I’m always going to be somewhere in this place. Don’t you know why I keep asking you questions?”

Crona’s finger hovered over the space next to the third line. “You know,” the shadow urged. “I know you can answer this one.”

Crona’s finger pressed deep into the sand.

The tip of their pen pressed into the page of the notebook. The ink formed a dark blot. _What do I know?_ Crona wondered, sitting not on a cloudy beach, but in their familiar, stale, quiet room. _If everything else disappears... what’s left? If I’m not the demon swordsman... then..._

Crona turned to a new page. They focused hard, thinking about fog on a cold mirror. They were trying to write a poem about identity. If they could figure out who they were, then stripping the rest away... being just a _person_ wouldn’t seem so scary. 

_My body is a maze of lightning in a storm. I am a written word on a page desperate to be real._

It was all they had so far. It seemed too dramatic to be completely right. They thought they’d have an easier time answering awkward questions that came up sometimes if they gave themself time to think and put it into something tangible. But it never worked that way.

Crona flipped to a different page and stared at the title. _42._ It was a list of questions. It started with _1\. What’s your name?_ and ended with _42\. Where are you trying to go?_ Forty two easy questions that were just so overwhelming.

“That’s not even a poem,” Ragnarok said, breaking the silence. “It’s a _list,_ does a grocery list count as poetry now?”

“I don’t know,” Crona sighed, “I don’t think it’s a poem... They say a poem can be anything, but can a bunch of questions count? I thought if I could figure out what I _don’t_ know, then...”

“What, you’d have an epiphany?” asked Ragnarok. “Come on, we’ve been through this, it’s annoying as hell. Just write what you _do_ know.”

Ragnarok slammed his fist into the top of Crona’s head. It wasn’t terrible advice. Crona turned the page and began writing.

_I am the demon swordsman Crona.  
My blood is black.  
My life is yours.  
Your name is Maka.  
You wield a scythe.  
Your soul pierces through absolute zero.  
You’re as bright as a star.  
You are a summer sun shower.  
I know what’s true  
Because I’m answering you.  
My heart is full because you are in it._

Crona’s head buzzed. They flipped the page back to the list of questions. 

_43: Is this what being in love feels like?_

🩸 🩸 🩸

Maka couldn’t shake the thought of what Soul had said, how being alone wasn’t conducive method for figuring out who you wanted to be. She’d never fully understand what Crona was going through, she knew that. But she did understand how it was— When the sky inside your soul was gloomy, it was hard to want to do anything. It was good to have Soul around for that. She both hated and appreciated when he could drag her out of that.

Nobody else had any plans. Black Star and Tsubaki were out on a mission, so game night was postponed. Soul would be fine with having Crona over for a game night with just the three of them. It was a nice thought. It was _too_ nice of a thought, Maka knew that nobody would ever get to sleep if they got addicted to gaming every night. At least in a group, things started to break up once people began trickling out.

As though it could read their souls, the sun took a vacation behind heavy, dark clouds. Maka sensed a rare thunderstorm coming to the valley. Crona wouldn’t want to walk with her in that, and honestly, she wasn’t looking forward to going home either.

Before Crona could say goodbye for the day, Maka caught their wrist as they turned to head back downstairs. “Can I come down with you?” she asked.

“To my room?”

“Yeah.”

“You... really wanna hang out in there?”

“I just wanna hang out. And...” She glanced at the window. Crona’s gaze followed hers. “I also want to stay here until that passes.”

“Yeah... okay.” Crona scratched their arm, hunched their shoulders, they seemed... reluctant. Maka followed a couple paces behind. Crona looked over their shoulder as though checking to make sure she was still there. Maka decided to walk beside them instead, hoping she wasn’t overstepping herself.

“I don’t mind spending time indoors,” she said. _Don’t mind_ made it sound like a chore, so she quickly amended, “I usually prefer spending quiet time to, you know, partying...”

“Me too,” Crona said. Even while Maka walked beside them, they kept glancing over at her. They seemed... uncertain, fidgety, not that that was particularly out of the ordinary, but Maka wondered if there was something else wrong. She’d wished she’d checked up on Crona before. She hoped they weren’t keeping anything else important inside.

“I’ve been frustrated,” they spoke, stopping on top of the stairs to the basement, “with how distracted I’ve been.”

“Well... you’ve got a lot going on.” Maka waited for them to expound. They descended into the dungeon in silence. Their echoing footsteps on the stone ceiling made the silence louder. “Is it anything new?” she asked. “Or is it what you talked to me about last time?”

“I don’t like talking out here,” Crona mumbled. “It feels so open...”

“I get it.” Maka patted their arm. She felt them jump. Maka’s heart sank. After all this time, it hurt a little bit that Crona still wasn’t comfortable with her touch yet. They raised their hand slowly into the air. Maka watched, puzzled. They touched their cheek. Even in the dim torchlight, it looked a little pink. Maka wondered if something hurt over there, then remembered with a jolt that they were touching the spot she kissed the other day. 

Maka forced herself to look ahead as they continued on. Her heart jumped when Crona gently tugged her sleeve, pulling her to a stop. “Um, Maka.” They were there! This was Crona’s door, alright.

Crona held the door for her, but followed close behind, letting it shut the second they were through. “Um...” Crona looked at her awkwardly. Their cheek was still faintly pink. “So... what do you want to do?”

“We don’t have to do anything. We could just work on homework.”

She didn’t have any plans, but it was enough to just be here with them, even in this gloomy little room. The space was as dim and grey as she remembered, but the air seemed less stale, the walls less unforgiving. “Do you think,” Crona asked her, “you could help me write something? I don’t know why I’m having so much trouble writing right now. It’s like all my thoughts are getting jammed up and nothing can come out.”

“You mean writer’s block?” asked Maka.

Crona nodded. “That’s a really good name for it.” They started toward the corner. Then looked back over their shoulder. “Actually, do you wanna sit?”

They led the way to their bed. They sat down at the very edge. Maka sat beside them. She took it as a good sign that they didn’t edge away. Crona picked up their notebook nervously. They flipped open to a page. They paused on it, reading it over. Maka reached for it.

Crona shut the notebook and swiped it away protectively. “Alright,” Maka sighed, “I get it, I’m not gonna read it.”

“There’s some really private stuff in here,” said Crona, blushing as they opened it up. They held it close to their nose. Maka couldn’t see their face over it. They flipped back through it, and seemed to finally arrive back where they’d left off.

“So, what are you trying to write? Can I at least see what you have so far?”

Crona lowered the notebook. Maka stared over the top of it. The page was blank.

“Oh,” said Maka. “Well... what do you wanna write about?”

“What do you think is inside of a black hole?” Crona asked. 

“That’s... an interesting topic.”

“That’s not exactly it,” Crona said, “just sort of one idea I had... I was thinking more like...” They trailed off and threw their head back with a groan. “How am I supposed to put into words what I can’t put into words? I shouldn’t have asked you for help.”

“Um...” This sounded like a puzzle. “A black hole, huh... So, something cold and empty that draws in everything. Or just a really big mystery that’s fun to puzzle over. Kind of like you!”

She smiled. Crona’s shoulders fell. “You think I’m cold and empty, huh...”

Maka elbowed them. “You know I meant the second thing.”

“Maybe that’s my answer,” Crona said blankly. “That’s all that’s left... A true vacuum that sucks in even light that no one can ever really know about.”

“I think I know where this is coming from.” She folded her legs underneath her. She sidled closer. “It may feel that way sometimes. In fact, just by hearing about it, I get it. You... definitely have a way of putting things.”

“It’s because I drag everyone down with me.” Crona drew their knees up to their chest. “That’s why I just wanna come back here every day instead of going to live with Miss Marie. It’s not even that I’m that nervous about Doctor Stein... I just don’t want to feed my gigantic black hole.” They rested their chin on top of their knees. “At least now I’ve figured it out,” they sighed.

“Well,” said Maka, “that’s kind of a gift. Putting something so abstract into something that other people can feel... That’s something you’re really, really good at.” She rested a hand on their elbow. They peeked at her over their knees. “Hearing about this _is_ making me kind of sad, just because I wanna argue but I’m not as good with words with you when it comes to feelings. If it’s something you keep practicing, you can really make a difference with it.”

“I’ve never thought about being a poet before,” Crona said. “I spent most of my life thinking I was going to be a kishin... Those aren’t remotely close to each other.”

“They definitely aren’t,” Maka laughed. “Just write what you feel. Don’t worry about making it perfect, or even making it good. Think about it like this, if you keep moving, you’ll get somewhere eventually.”

 _No shit,_ Maka thought to herself, but for Crona, it seemed to work. They lifted their head from their knees and looked back at the blank page. They leaned back against the wall. “Here,” Maka said, nudging them forward. She grabbed their pillow and put it against the wall behind them. They leaned back against it.

“Thank you.”

They started writing again, pausing often to glance up at Maka. “I’m not reading,” she sighed. She reached into her own bag to grab a book so she’d have something else to look at. She didn’t read a word, just listened to Crona’s pen scratching against the paper. Her heart fluttered. She hoped she’d be allowed to read it.

After a couple minutes, there was a long pause. “It’s not that I don’t know what to write,” they finally spoke up.

“Hm?”

“It’s not hard at all, actually. That’s not the problem. I can write. This is something I’m good at.”

Maka’s heart swelled. “It is! I’m so glad you finally have something you can be proud of!”

“I’m not, this is pointless. This isn’t a useful skill.” They clicked the pen shut and sighed. “All I can do with it is make people depressed.”

“That’s not true.”

Crona raised their eyebrows. Maka fumbled with her thoughts for a moment. “You’re not the only one who feels... lost and alone. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve had times in my life where I felt like the only person in the whole world. Knowing somebody else has felt that way, it’s sad, but... it feels a little less lonely.”

Crona’s head tilted to one side. Maka’s cheeks flushed. “Is that why you started writing poetry? To reach other people?”

“Actually...” Maka took her eyes off Crona. She watched her thumbs twiddle. “I um... I think I wanna show you.”

“Show me what? A poem?”

“Kind of.” Maka glanced back at Crona. “I only feel comfortable showing you if we’re alone, though.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll see if I can get the place cleared later.”

“No, please, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. I wanna share this.” Crona blinked. Maka laughed awkwardly. “It’s pretty personal, but I feel like you wouldn’t judge me.”

“Probably not. Your poems aren’t, well... bad.”

Maka’s eye twitched. “I wasn’t gonna show you a _poem_. But _thanks.”_

“Well I— I liked the one you wrote about the tree, I just had trouble trying to figure what kind of rhythm you were going for—”

“Stop talking.”

Crona pursed their lips together, looking back down into their notebook. Maka felt uncertain now and wished she hadn’t brought this up. _They’ll probably think it’s stupid._ She’d just hoped to help Crona feel less alone, and maybe they’d even understand her better. “I can’t ask you not to judge,” she mumbled. “You’ve been vulnerable with me, so... it seems fair. Even if I didn’t write it.”

“Are you talking about a poem?” Crona asked.

“Kind of,” Maka answered. _Kind of..._ She didn’t know if she could live it down if Crona thought it was stupid. They wouldn’t be mean about it, Maka knew that, but even if they looked at her weird it would hurt on a personal level. She was nervous, she realized. But maybe this would help... “Why don’t you come over later?”

“When?”

“I’ll call you,” said Maka. “It’s um... it’s something I can only show you at my place. And I only feel comfortable showing you alone. So... don’t bail on me this time, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

There wasn’t any reason to leave now, but Maka was running out of patience. She squeezed their hand. “When the rain stops,” she said. “There’s still plenty of time, right?”

She stood. “You’re leaving now?” asked Crona. “But it’s still raining.”

“I’m anxious to see how soon I can show you,” Maka said honestly. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Crona nodded. Maka smiled and ran off. 

🩸 🩸 🩸

The rain trickled to a stop as she ran home. She threw off her coat when she got inside. She was tempted to call for Soul right away. Instead, she took a deep breath and contained herself. She approached Soul’s door hesitantly. She forced herself to knock.

Soul’s door opened. Something seemed strange, something was missing— He wasn’t wearing his headband. “You can’t look at me right now, the rain fucked up my hair. Leave me alone.”

“After you fix your hair could you maybe step out for a bit?” Soul raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry,” she added hurriedly, “I can’t ask you to do that...”

“Why? Are you gonna...” Suddenly, Soul grinned. “Did you ask Crona over again?”

Maka blushed. “It’s not like anything you have in mind.”

“Riiiiiiight. How long do you need? You want me to find somewhere to crash for the night?”

Maka slapped her forehead. She kept her throwing hand firmly at her side. What Soul obviously had in mind was easier to explain. And being the kind of guy he was, he’d be much more eager to leave her alone for _that._ But the truth felt even more embarrassing. “I’m not gonna make you sleep somewhere else. I wouldn’t just _do_ that.”

“You sure, Maka? For your first time, you should take it slow. Take as much time as you need.”

Maka hated the way he was smirking at her. “You can think whatever you want. I don’t need more than a couple hours, alright?”

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut _UP!”_

She couldn’t hit him, not when she was asking so much of him. Her eye twitched as he clapped her shoulder. “Anything to finally close this chapter in our lives,” he said. He walked past her, heading toward the bathroom.

Maka tried not to stare at him. Soul didn’t like people watching him gel his hair. It was a very personal process. It could take anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour. Maka waited five, then picked up the phone.

Her heart drummed in her throat until Crona picked up. “Hello...?”

“You can come over now.” By the time Crona got there, Soul would be finished, probably. Or if he wasn’t, Maka would just have to put up with the looks he’d give them before heading out.

She closed herself off in her room to get ready. She opened her drawer and pulled out a CD. She wiped the dust off of it, then put it back.

She couldn’t let Soul see.

🩸 🩸 🩸

Crona was glad to leave the gloom of the dungeon, even if it was into the gloom of the rain. There was hardly a drizzle, but the ground was still muddy. The air was damp. Crona looked down at a patch of grass where a yellow flower drooped. It looked like it was drowning, but once the mud dried, it would be bright and strong. More flowers might join it.

It was cloudy and wet here, but on a beach somewhere, the sky began to clear.

_The sky opened its floodgates to wash away the pain  
Now the tables have turned, and I can’t comfort the rain._

The line crept into their head like that, and Crona froze for a bit, letting it wash over them like a wave. Everything seemed clear for a second. They tried to grab at it before it slipped through their fingers.

And then, it was gone. “Dammit,” Crona whispered. “I didn’t bring a pen.”

They didn’t bother to stop for another second until they reached Maka’s apartment. If they thought too much, their mind would start to wander. They might start to get anxious and run back home.

They couldn’t believe they let Maka get that close to their thoughts. She’d been leaning against them less than an hour ago, so close to the feelings they’d vomited out on the page. The thought of her discovering them was terrifying but thrilling.

It wasn’t like they’d be able to tell her any other way.

The building felt familiar at this point. Crona knocked twice. The door immediately flew open. Maka stood there, free of her coat, free of her pigtails. Her hair hung down messily.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Crona replied.

Maka stood aside. “Sorry I kind of just dragged you out on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem.”

Crona would do anything for her. At least she wasn’t mad this time. She was eager, excited, and that made Crona tingle with apprehension in a way that they weren’t used to. Their heart calmed as they stepped over the threshold. Maka’s apartment was cozy, warm, and dry. It was quieter than Crona was used to.

“Is anybody else home?”

“No, Soul just headed out.”

“Oh...” So they were alone in here. Right, Maka said she’d try to get the place cleared... She didn’t kick out Soul, did she?

Crona followed Maka into her room. Soul’s room was dark. They peered into the bathroom. There were hair products and a hair dryer out on the counter. Something smelled like burning chemicals. “Oh, he _just_ left,” Crona said.

Even though they were alone in the apartment, Maka shut the door when they went into her room. Crona heard a trill from Maka’s bed. Blair uncurled, stretching her arms. Maka picked her up and dumped her outside. Blair meowed indignantly. Maka rolled her eyes, clicking her lock shut.

“So, um, yeah,” she began. “I kind of... put something together.”

Crona waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, they asked, “What is it?”

Maka walked over to her dresser. Her hand paused on the handle of her top drawer. “When I was a kid,” she said, “and things were tough... when I felt overwhelmingly hopeless, there were some bands that I listened to that made me feel understood.” She opened her drawer. She drew out a thin box. “Your writing reminded me a little of the songs I used to listen to a lot. I put together a playlist of songs that... well, made me think of you.”

Heat rose into Crona’s face. Reflexively, they touched their cheek. It still felt warm. “What kinds of songs?”

“My Chemical Resonance, mostly. Have you heard of them?”

“I can’t say I have, no. I’m not too familiar with music.”

“Okay so, don’t judge me.” Maka opened the box with a click. “Everybody gets really judgy about my music taste... I can’t share this with anyone. If they dissed anything on this CD, it would really hurt.”

Crona’s heart clenched. They hoped they didn’t hate it, they didn’t know if they could hide their feelings, even if it was to make Maka happy.

“Maybe it’s not like, genius, but this stuff helped me get through some of the worst points in my life. I know I didn’t have it the _worst,_ I mean, I’m not the only one whose parents got divorced. I’m sure what I went through was pretty common, even if at the time I felt like the only person in the whole world.”

“It’s okay,” Crona said, “I get it... it’s the little things that send you over the edge.”

“Gerold Yaw was my only friend for a while, so if you hate it, don’t even say anything.” She opened up her CD player and glanced back at Crona. “I mean, you can hate it if you want, just don’t be mean. Soul doesn’t know I’m into this and I’ve heard him call it _‘emo crap’_ and ‘ _not real music.’”_

“Wow, what a jerk.” Crona really hoped they wouldn’t wind up agreeing with him.

Maka popped the CD in. “Okay, no more disclaimers,” she said. She pressed a button.

The first note that played immediately resonated through Crona’s soul. A man’s voice sang out, filled with emotion. Crona nodded along, holding Maka’s intent look. They tried to comprehend the words, the demons, the damned...

Then—

It picked up. Crona’s eyes widened. The nodding stopped. They didn’t notice their mouth opening slightly as the song rocked through them. They didn’t quite understand it— not directly, but it sent jolts of adrenaline through them.

 _Hatred. Defeat._ It wasn’t just the man’s voice— the drums and guitars, the full marching band carried the rage of the words. It filled their senses. The lyrics and instruments reverberated with darkness. All too soon, it slowed. The last of the snare drums closed the song like a door slamming.

Maka’s face came back into view. The rest of the world came crashing down with her. “So...” Maka’s tense finger hovered open the pause button. “What did you think...?”

“It was... good.” Crona didn’t have more words. The man had spoken all of them.

“I thought I’d start with something kind of fun... The next one I have reminded me more of you. Do you wanna listen to it?”

“Yes,” they breathed.

The next one didn’t deliver the thrill with the music as immediately as it did with the words. A mirror. _Blood._ _A black dress mixed with blood._ Crona tugged at their skirt, transfixed. They looked up at Maka. The song... it was _about them._ How did this man get into their head...?

_Blood is streaming down my wrist  
I can’t wait for eternal bliss_

The song ended abruptly. Crona’s breath was caught in their throat. Maka was looking at them expectantly. They tried to form a thought. Tried to say... _something._

“I get it... and _he_ gets it.” That man. Gerold...? “I understand what you mean now. It felt like he was saying my feelings.”

“That’s what writing can do,” said Maka, smiling. “It can reach someone. Doesn’t it make you feel a little less alone?”

“Yes. C-Can you put on another one?”

Maka played another one. It made them feel strong and weak at the same time. Crona couldn’t even catch all the words. Not even half the words. But they felt the rage. The longing. The man joined himself in resonating harmony. He _wanted_ something. So did the guitars and the drums, the stamping feet and all the other instruments that Crona didn’t know.

He sang about wanting badly to kiss somebody. The heat rose in Crona’s cheek again. They looked at Maka’s flushed face. The music beckoned them closer to her. It was so uncanny... “He’s saying exactly what I’m feeling.”

Maka met their eye and smiled shyly. Along with the music, Crona felt her soul reach out to them. The longing was inside of her too. Crona felt her heart beat with theirs, and realized how badly she wanted to share this. A part of her they’d never seen before. A part of her she’d kept locked inside.

Her resonance wavered hesitantly. Crona wanted to speak the way this man was speaking, inviting Maka to show them everything. Strip it all away until it was just her soul. But this poem was put to music. It was so much more powerful than anything they could put in ink. They tried to let their soul meet hers. They stretched out their hand instead. She grasped it hard.

“I think I’m feeling the same way as you,” she said.

Crona felt the song in their heart, about a love crying out to be met, across an ocean. On the horizon, Maka’s soul was right there. Her lips were even closer. The invisible eb and flow drew them forward. They leaned in, then realized what they were doing.

They jerked back. They locked eyes with Maka, who gazed at them intently. Her soul was right there now, asking if that was how they felt. _Yes,_ Crona’s soul answered. _I want you, Maka. I love you._

Maka closed the distance. Her lips on theirs took over every other sensation until they could hear the music again. Their body moved with the music as they kissed her back. They didn’t need to think. The song spoke everything in their heart. They felt like they were flying. Their breath mingled with hers, Crona tasted salt— they were both crying, overwhelmed by every emotion at once.

Maka kept on kissing them, and Crona held her. They barely heard the words anymore, but the song itself had a soul. The sun shone overhead, waves sparkling underneath. Crona’s heart felt so full they were sure it would burst.

Their shoulder blades exploded instead. Ragnarok burst forth. He lunged forward with a wicked grin. “Take your top off!” he shouted gleefully.

Maka screamed. She shoved Crona backward and pressed against the wall, hugging her chest protectively. The music stopped. Ragnarok snickered. Crona’s shoulders stiffened. The world came crashing back down.

“Why,” Crona asked, rolling their eyes up to meet Ragnarok’s, “do you HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING!”

Crona seized Ragnarok by the neck. Another song started playing. Crona bashed his head into the wall in time with the drums. They could feel the pain traveling up their own nervous system. They didn’t care. “YOU LITTLE FUCKER!” they yelled.

 _“Who’s_ the fucker?” Ragnarok choked. He punched Crona’s nose. They saw white, then punched him back.

They vaguely heard a click, and then the music stopped again. Maka stood over the stereo, looking over at them awkwardly. “Do you two need a moment...?”

“No!” Crona yelled. “I— I’m sorry—”

“It’s not your fault,” Maka mumbled. Her face was very red. Crona tried to shove Ragnarok back into their body. He wouldn’t _stay._

“I— AAGH!” Ragnarok rattled their nose. “STOP! THIS ISN’T THE _TIME!”_

“What’re you gonna do, huh?” Ragnarok’s mouth appeared in a toothy grin. “If you wanna suck some face, you gotta leave some for me!”

Maka flinched. Crona took a step toward her. “Leave me alone, you sick freak!” she shouted. Crona backed away. “Wait! I didn’t mean you!” 

But it was too late. The world had come back _hard._ They’d thought they were flying, but they were falling. And they’d landed flat on their face. “I’m going to go home now,” they said, their voice level.

“Huh?!”

“I’ll see you, Maka.”

Air rushed through their head. It sounded like crashing waves. If Maka called, they didn’t hear. Crona left the warmth of her cozy apartment, back into the damp chill. It was dark. They didn’t care. They wandered into a back alley, where they were sure they were alone.

“Ha, you really just ran away?” Ragnarok asked. “You’re such a coward weakling.”

“No, I came out here to talk to you.” Crona’s voice was still level and calm. Their mouth twisted into a smile. They pulled Ragnarok’s head down and twisted his little body to slam it against the wall. “I’m only gonna say this once. I’m _finished_ letting you boss me around. Actually, I might have to say it a bunch of times.”

Ragnarok turned to liquid. He slipped through Crona’s fingers. Blinding pain tore through them; Ragnarok erupted rougher than usual and Crona found their own head pressed against the wall. “You don’t get to threaten me!”

“GET USED TO IT!”

“You can’t do _this!”_ A sharp pain traveled up Crona’s arms. The blood hardened inside of them. Their limbs stiffened and bent painfully against their will. Tendons stretched from hyperextended fingers. One of their shoulders threatened dislocation. Their body wasn’t under the control of nerves, muscle, and bone. Blood was in control and it didn’t care about hurting or breaking them. They couldn’t move. They were trapped in their own body. “Get that through your skull!”

Panic burst into giggles from Crona’s chest. “So I’ll kill us both, I don’t care.”

Ragnarok softened. Crona straightened up. That seemed to scare him. Crona couldn’t feel victorious, they only felt like shit. Hugging their arms, they returned to the academy, and descended back into the darkness.

But they couldn’t stand it in there, not anymore. After what could have been minutes or hours of feverish pacing, they ran back up the stairs and hurried back through the streets of Death City to Maka’s apartment. They stopped underneath her window. All the lights were on inside. Two silhouettes were visible. One of them had very spiky hair.

Soul was back. Crona’s jaw clenched. They couldn’t do it. They couldn’t go back in there.

For all that big talk, they just couldn’t do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bunch of thank yous: to my sister RL for writing the only poem that didn’t suck in this chapter, the one about the rain. And my other sister for the fake MCR lyrics. And to Ren for the body horror segment. And to Quim for reccing MCR songs for the chapter and describing the listening experience. I never wrote a croma first kiss in my other croma fics so here’s what I was holding out on!
> 
> Next chapter I plan to provide aloe vera for how this ended. Spoiler: Crona and Maka will get to have many nice moments together after this. There will be pain but also fluff! Fluff and pain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crona finds the one thing they're sure about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not think this chapter would take this long to post. I wrote it like 2 months ago actually but needed to rework a LOT of shit. Thank you Ren for helping me rework a lot of shit.

Crona had no idea how they’d face Maka in the morning. They slept terribly and crawled out of bed when the sun was just waking up. They walked outside and anxiously waited for her on the front steps.

Ragnarok was quiet. Maybe he’d felt like he crossed a line, Crona wouldn’t know, he wouldn’t ever say sorry. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to deal with being threatened. Crona felt terrible, even about that.

They waited with their thoughts until the crowds began trickling in. They wondered nervously if they’d be able to see her. They spotted Soul’s hair first. Crona followed the bobbing spikes, visible if they craned their neck. Crona and the spikes approached each other. As they got closer, Crona spotted Maka.

She walked over shly, seeming smaller than usual. Her shoulders were hunched, her hands clasped, like that, Soul looked taller walking carefreely by her side. Maka stopped in front of them. Crona’s heart pounded.

“I’m glad to see you,” she said. She didn’t quite meet their eye. “I wanted to talk about last night.”

Soul snorted. Maka procured a textbook out of thin air to whack him with. “You were totally gone by the time I got back,” he said to Crona. “That was a quick come and go, that’s no way to treat a lady.”

Crona’s soul was too busy leaving their body to pay attention to Maka yelling and swinging the book. “Alright,” Soul finally relented, ducking for cover, “I’ll leave you two alone. You better work this out.”

Maka rolled her eyes. Soul disappeared into the crowd, and Crona suddenly became very self conscious of the fact that they’d been waiting alone on the stairs since before anyone arrived. They wished Maka would look at them. She stood there tensely, mouth drawn in a hard line. “I want to apologize,” she finally spoke. “I reacted without thinking, everything just happened so suddenly... I’m sorry about how it ended.”

“Oh please don’t say you regretted what we did, I think I’d just die!”

“I don’t mean I regret kissing you!” Maka exclaimed. They both looked around. Maka lowered her voice and added, “I honestly wanted to do that for a really long time. I don’t know why I spent so much time denying it. Soul was right...”

“Soul was... right about what?”

Maka smiled at them. Her previous words finally sank in. Crona laughed, relieved. In perfect sync, they hugged. Maka wasn’t tense anymore. She squeezed Crona tight, throwing all her weight onto them. Crona worried they might fall backwards and tumble down the stairs with Maka in their arms. They drew away sooner than they would have liked. 

“Thank goodness,” Maka sighed. “I froze up, I’m sorry about that. I got so scared. I thought I ruined it.”

“But— I was the one who left.”

“I should have gone after you. It wasn’t your fault that...”

Maka trailed off, and Crona felt the previous night’s weight sinking back onto their chest. They clutched their arm tight enough to feel the blood throbbing against their fingers. Ragnarok was staying put. Crona took that as a good sign. “I just wanted you to feel better about your own writing,” Maka murmured, and Crona strained to hear her over the crowd, “but it felt a lot more vulnerable than I was expecting. I think I understand now. How you first felt.” She slipped her glove off her right hand, and took Crona’s in hers. “I had my own little circle drawn.”

And she’d invited them to step inside of it. She trusted them. They’d seen the inside of her soul now. There were no more secrets between them. They started up the stairs, then Maka tugged Crona’s hand.

“It feels like a waste to spend today in class. Let’s ditch.”

Crona was fine with that. Hand in hand, they traveled against the tide of the incoming crowds. Maka smiled at Crona, then broke into a run. Together they ran away from the school, past rows of apartments, heading into an area of town that Crona didn’t know. Maka stopped on a street lined with shops. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she gasped, catching her breath.

“What, ditching class?”

“Yep!”

Crona’s heart sank. “I don’t want to get you in trouble...”

“Who gives a fuck? I’ve got perfect attendance!”

Maka led the way with an obvious spring in her step. This felt so surreal... but also right. Since Maka had first touched their soul— even further back, since they’d first met, Crona had known she was special. They couldn’t have known that they’d eventually wind up  _ here, _ but everything had changed since Maka barreled her way into their life swinging her scythe. That was the way she always was with them, breaking through their barriers, cutting through their walls. Crona wondered if they could ever touch her the way she’d touched them.

“Maka...” they said.

“Hm?”

“When...”  _ When did you decide you wanted me? _ The question caught in Crona’s throat.

“I think...” Maka’s eyes took on a faraway look. She interlaced her fingers with Crona’s. “I felt your soul during the battle with Asura. I felt your strength reaching me. When I got back and I saw that you were okay... When I saw your smile, I know that then, I wanted to kiss you. And you know what?” Maka’s eyes locked with theirs. “It wasn’t the first time.”

Crona blushed. “Really...?”

Maka nodded. “Looking back, I can think of so many moments when it really should have been obvious. I don’t know what I told myself after the battle. That you were hurt, or that I was just feeling some weird rush... Or that I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Or that...” Her eyes became distant again. “That since I was your first friend, that it’d be betraying your trust. Yeah. I think that’s what I kept telling myself. That you were so kind to me because you were just glad to be my friend.”

“Well...” Crona’s mouth twitched.  _ Yes, _ but also, they loved Maka so much that the feelings she gave them could cancel out the worst of the darkness. They wouldn’t believe what was happening now if they hadn’t felt her soul last night. Or if she was anyone other than Maka. “I...  _ was _ glad to be your friend.”

“Did I keep you waiting?” Maka’s eyes seemed hopeful. “Or... did everything change last night?”

“No!” Crona shook their head. “I love you, Maka! I’ve loved you for—” Their eyes stung. A lump formed in their throat. “For... for so long...”

They tried to control the tears. They weren’t sad, they were so  _ happy. _ So why were they crying? Maka’s eyes reddened. “Then I’m sorry,” she whispered, “for making you wait.”

“I knew...” Crona wiped their nose with their free hand. “I mean... I didn’t know... always... that I was...  _ in _ love. But I  _ loved _ you. S-so much.”

Maka sniffled. A tear dripped down her cheek, and Crona almost wanted to laugh at how absurd it was that they were both crying now. Maka stopped in the middle of the street to throw her arms around them. Her mouth brushed against their ear.

“I love you, too.”

There was no reason to doubt. No reason to be sad. “A few days ago,” they said softly, “when I tried to write what I knew about myself... I wrote a poem about you instead. I couldn’t ignore or forget how I felt after that.”

“Can I see it?” Maka asked.

“No, it’s bad. It— it seemed good at the time, but... um, I reread it with a clear head and... I’ll try and write you something better. And. Not depressing.”

Maka drew away. Crona recognized a flicker of doubt in her mind.  _ You can write something that’s not depressing? _ Maybe Crona shouldn’t write Maka a poem after all. Ever. “Don’t strain yourself too bad.”

“Yeah. Nothing good’ll happen if I try and force it. And now I’m just gonna keep comparing myself to Gerold Yaw...”

Maka struck their head with a chop that wasn’t hard enough to hurt. “Don’t do that. Besides, your writing’s remarkably similar. There’s a  _ reason _ you reminded me so much of My Chemical Resonance. Now, what do you wanna do?”

“Huh?”

“While we’re out here. Where do you wanna go? There’s a nice bookstore nearby. Or do you wanna get something to eat?”

Crona wasn’t hungry yet. They had just eaten yesterday. “A bookstore sounds nice.”

“Then let’s go!” Maka snatched their hand back up and led them through streets that she must have known well. This was exciting— Crona didn’t know where they were going, but Maka was so sure of herself, and Crona was sure of her. They wanted her to keep leading them everywhere, holding their hand and taking them to new surprises.

Too soon, they arrived. The bookstore was set into a row of two story shops, with a recessed entryway. Crona didn’t catch the name of the place before Maka pulled them inside. 

The smell of fresh books mixed with lemony cleaner in Crona’s nose. The lights were bright but comfortable, and there was a small reading nook by the front floor-to-ceiling window, currently occupied by a twenty-something year old woman with a rag and a bottle of window cleaner. She waved to Maka, and Maka waved back. Crona wondered if she knew her. They wondered if Maka knew everyone who frequented this place.

Maka led them further in, into the aisles between the bookshelves. There were so many books it was dizzying. Too many words, too many smells, too many occupied senses. Their eyes drifted over the different titled book spines, but they didn’t take in more than a word or two before moving to another.

The store was quiet, and Maka kept looking from the shelves to Crona as though she was looking for a book for them. She briefly drew out a book by Joke Rolling, then frowned and put it back. She took out another book— one Crona almost didn’t recognize, because the cover was different. The Habbit, by Jirt...

“I know that one.”

Maka nodded. “This must be a new addition. I love the art! Do you want me to get this one for you?”

“But I’ve already read it.”

Maka looked disappointed. “You really liked it, didn’t you? You can read it as many times as you want.”

_ But you have it, _ Crona thought. And they’d liked going over to Maka’s place to keep borrowing it. She loved reading. She loved talking about books. So Crona loved to read the books  _ she _ loved so that they could spend precious time with her. But now, they wouldn’t need an excuse anymore, would they? “I d-do like that one...”

“Sometimes I like to buy books that I’ve read hundreds of times, even if I don’t plan on reading them again soon. It’s just nice to own them.”

Crona understood. Maka wanted the things she loved to really be hers. The thought of  _ owning _ something made Crona a little nervous. What right did they have...? “H-how about something else? If there’s, um, something else that you like that I haven’t read yet...” Then silences wouldn’t be as hard to fill.

“Or maybe we could both try something new!” Maka’s face shone with excitement. It made Crona smile. “One of the reasons I like this bookstore is they have blind date books, where— it’s easier to show you.” She led them back towards the storefront, to a two-tiered table with a dozen brown paper covered books. “So, the idea is to not judge a book by its cover, and pick one based on the description written on the front—” She held up a wrapped book to show off the short, kind of vague descriptions “—rather than the cover art, title, or author.”

Crona felt something inside them moving thick and hot like tar. Their heart sank. Ragnarok slipped out from between their shoulder blades to grab the book out of Maka’s hands. “Why the hell would you do that? Books already suck, and now I can’t even pick it out myself?” He threw it back onto the table, where it bounced and fell to the floor.

“Ragnarok, quit it!” Crona yelled. They heard strange voices muttering and felt eyes staring from all around. The day had been going so well so far— of course Ragnarok was here to ruin it now. Why would he let Crona have one good day?

And Maka— All the muscles in her face twitched, and her hands clenched into fists. Crona could see the previous night’s memories replaying in her head. “Um. How about...” Maka crouched down to pick the book off the floor. She scanned the description briefly and set it back down on the table. “I think I’ve already read this one. But I don’t see any others that I recognize. Why don’t you see if there’s anything you find interesting? We could read it together!”

“Really?” Crona asked. Maka nodded. Reading... together? They would have to sit very close to both see the page. But then, that might be really awkward, they’d have to announce every time they were ready to turn the page, and they might wind up forgetting what they read if they had to wait too long—

_ Or she could read it to you. _ Yeah. That probably made more sense. That would be really nice. Crona smiled as they returned their gaze to the wrapped books, lifting them one by one to see if anything caught their interest. To their surprise, they felt the weight of Ragnarok leaning over to look, too. To their even greater surprise, they didn’t see Maka do the same. They glanced over curiously. Maka was watching them with a strange smile. 

“W-what is it?”

Her smile grew. “Nothing. You’re just cute is all.”

Their cheeks grew hot and they ducked their head shyly. They clutched the book in hand to their chest. “Th-thank you. You um. Y-you are too.”

Maka giggled, her cheeks turning pink. Crona felt their own face flush as they laughed with her. She really did look so cute when she laughed. Fake puking sounds over their head ruined the moment, Ragnarok gagging in disgust. Maka’s giggle turned into a growl.

“Ugh, would you shut up already?”

“It’s not my fault. You two are just so pathetic you can’t even flirt right. It’s making me sick.” He took a moment to gag again. Crona flinched at the feel of him drooling into their hair.

“Ew, Ragnarok, that’s gross!” Crona tried to dodge the flecks of spit. They tried to take cover under their hands.

“See? You’re so bad even this sucker is getting sick of it.”

“No! Th-that’s not true!”

“I know, Crona,” Maka said patiently, but her throwing fist tightened. “He’s just being more of an ass than usual. Stupider than usual, too.”

“Stupid? You’re the dumb bi—”

“MAKA CHOP!”

A book smashed into Ragnarok, pulping his head and sending Crona stumbling into the table. They just barely managed to stay on their feet.

“You’d think he’d know not to pull this sort of stuff in a bookstore.” Maka extinguished the smoking book in her hand with a puff of breath. Ragnarok retreated back into Crona’s body. “I’m sorry, are you okay? I didn’t hit you too, did I?”

Their initial response came out as a squeak. “I’m okay,” they tried again in a more even voice. “He was being a jerk. He deserved it.”

Maka sighed. “Still…”

“Yeah…”

Murmurs erupted all around them. Icy prickles of anxiety bristled up Crona’s body. The woman who had been cleaning, who Crona had thought was Maka’s friend, approached with a glower that was far from friendly. Their breathing quickened. What was she going to do, were they in trouble—?

“Oh hi, um, sorry about that,” Maka said to the woman with a strained laugh. “We’re on our way out.”

It seemed she had to pay for the book she used to bludgeon Ragnarok. Part of the paper covering was torn and the spine was visibly dented. Despite her assurances that this was the book she wanted anyway, Crona wished they’d had more time to browse instead. As they headed back out into the sun, Crona remembered too late that there  _ was _ a book they wanted— a story about a woman’s descent into madness written by a poet who killed herself.

It would have been a nice first book to own.

“It’s okay,” Maka reassured them, but the sun seemed less bright, and the air felt less warm. “I know someplace nice and quiet we can go where we don’t have to worry about Ragnarok getting us kicked out.”

Crona followed behind Maka, who turned her head to smile at them every few seconds. She seemed much more cheerful now that Ragnarok was back inside. Crona wondered how long he would stay.

Crona’s heart lifted when they realized where Maka was taking them. Just away from the bustle of Death City was a park where fluffy yellow flowers grew. Today the flowers were gone, the grass freshly cut. Crona preferred the place when it was overgrown. They liked the long grass and weeds and wildflowers.

Maka sat under the shade of a tree and patted the space next to her. Crona took a tentative seat. They folded their legs underneath them and curled their hands on their lap, keeping a short distance away. But Maka sidled up to them and nudged them with her shoulder. Crona took that as an invitation to inch closer. Even through all their layers of clothing, Maka’s arm felt so warm against theirs. Being this close was dizzying. She turned her head— they could count her eyelashes now— note faint blemishes on her skin, dotting her face like constellations— her nose, tilting up as she leaned closer, closer—

All too suddenly, Maka scrunched up and recoiled. “Good to see you again,” she muttered, glaring above them.

Crona felt a weight settle faintly on the top of their head. They hadn’t even noticed Ragnarok emerge this time, they’d been so caught up in the moment.

“Goo-pi!”

“Don’t pretend you’re so innocent.”

_ “I _ wasn’t the one about to tongue Crona just now!”

Was that why he came out? Just to ruin this? Crona clenched their teeth. They wanted to wrestle with their own blood— expel every drop right here. If they wouldn’t die right away, if it gave them just a split second of freedom, Crona would bleed themself dry immediately.

Maka rolled her eyes and opened her new book. Once she began reading out loud, Ragnarok yawned and retreated again. Crona wanted to drink in the sound of her voice, but they wanted to kiss her even more. They wanted to have  _ just _ kissed her. And then they wanted to kiss her again. And again. They wanted Maka to pull Crona towards her and hold them while she kissed them. They wanted to kiss with the same abandon they had last night, without even stopping to think about everything in the way.

Maka tried to edge closer again once the tension of Ragnarok’s interruption faded, but Crona withdrew and hugged their arms. They’d felt her tense. They’d seen her disgust. Felt her fear. But still, Maka tried for them. Crona wondered why.

There’d been a few blissful minutes yesterday when they hadn’t wondered. But through the rest of the day, while Maka paused to eat a snack from her bag and then immediately returned to reading, Crona wondered past the vague smile they wore for Maka. They didn’t want to go anywhere else. They didn’t want to do anything but sit right here and keep listening to Maka read. Crona wanted Maka to enjoy this. The book kept her distracted from everything they knew they couldn’t hide.

The hottest part of the day arched over them. The sun’s powerful cackling calmed just a little bit. Crona felt Maka’s eyes on them before they noticed she’d stopped reading.

“You wanna stop?”

Crona blinked.

“We’ve been out here a long time. Are you hungry?”

“N-not really,” said Crona. “You can keep reading.”

“My voice is getting kind of sore.” Maka shut the book and stretched her arms. “Let’s take a break! We have the whole day to enjoy ourselves!”

The whole day. Maka had her whole life. Crona was reluctant to leave the grassy field, but the white noise of the city helped to drown out their worries just a little. They were able to return the inquisitive smile Maka gave them.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know... whatever you’re in the mood for, I guess.”

“Come on,  _ you _ choose.”

“I don’t like making decisions...”

“Alright, fine. I wanna get ice cream! Does that sound good?”

Crona nodded. That  _ did _ sound good. Maka giggled cheerfully and led the way to a tiny, colorful shop. It wasn’t very crowded, not in the afternoon on a weekday. Crona was instantly overwhelmed by all the options. Their mouth watered. Their back prickled. Ragnarok finally poked out again, interested.  _ Go away, _ Crona thought, but they didn’t have that right, they couldn’t just think about keeping Ragnarok shut inside forever. That was cruel.

“I usually get vanilla,” Maka was saying, “but Soul always teases me for that, since...” Maka looked up. She spotted Ragnarok, and her eyes narrowed. “Ugh...”

“Like you’re anything to look at yourself.”

Maka took a deep, calming breath. She turned her eyes back to Crona. “Well, I doubt  _ you’re _ gonna judge me for enjoying vanilla ice cream. Or make childish jokes about it. You can have some of mine if you don’t know what to get, or you can ask for samples.”

Crona looked at the smiling servers. No, they were  _ not _ doing that. “I WANT SAMPLES!” Ragnarok screamed. Crona felt bad for the employees uneasily handing Ragnarok tiny spoons with tiny scoops of ice cream. Ragnarok wasn’t particular; this was a good distraction. Crona scanned the options. They noticed Maka’s eyes on them. They studied Maka instead of the ice cream. Maka’s face flushed a light pink.

“What’s up?”

Crona looked from Maka to the selection of flavors. So many pretty colors to choose from. The coffee flavor was the same color as Maka’s hair. “I wanna get coffee because it looks like you.”

Maka’s face went from pink to deep red. “Th-then, I want to get strawberry because it looks like you!”

Ragnarok made loud gagging noises. Crona groaned. Maka glared at him. “If I get you ice cream, will you shut up?”

“One ice cream isn’t enough for this pukefest of a day. How many more times am I gonna have to get dragged along for this crap? Seriously, Crona, of all the chicks...”

Maka huffed, but kept her fists to herself. “I’m sorry,” Crona sighed for what felt like the millionth time. It would never be enough.

“Whatever. I already accepted that this is the way things are.”

That didn’t seem fair to her. But at least, when they went outside, the ice cream did keep Ragnarok occupied. He was satisfied with every scoop of the weirdest looking flavors and toppings. Crona would probably wind up letting Ragnarok have most of theirs anyway. Their bowl was piled high and drizzled with caramel syrup.

It even tasted like her... Not that Crona knew what Maka tasted like, but it was sweet and soft and there was a slight kick to the coffee flavor. Maka seemed to be enjoying her own ice cream. It was such a nice day, Crona was filled with all sorts of bubbly feelings. They were tempted to lean across the table to kiss her.

“Can I try some of your ice cream?” asked Maka.

“Sure,” said Crona, pushing their bowl across the table.

Maka tried a spoonful. Crona’s heart jumped as her mouth closed around the spoon. She smiled. “You wanna try some of mine?”

“Yes,” said Crona, “thank you!”

Instead of pushing her bowl back over, Maka dipped her own spoon back into her ice cream. Grinning, she held a scoop of strawberry ice cream across the table, right in front of Crona’s face. Crona’s eyes widened. They leaned forward and licked the ice cream off her spoon. The flavor exploded on their tongue— it was sweeter than their own.

“Mmh!”

Maka giggled. “D-do you wanna try some of mine?” Crona asked, pushing away the memory that she’d already asked. They dripped caramel syrup across the table in their eagerness. Their heart raced as Maka leaned forward. Their fingers twitched— a drop of ice cream landed on her cheek.

“S-sorry!”

“It’s no problem,” Maka laughed. She reached to take off her gloves. Feeling bold, Crona reached over to wipe her face with their thumb. Their eyes screwed up in concentration, their tongue poked slightly out of their mouth as they thumbed her cheek clean. It heated up slightly under their touch.

Maka caught their eye. Crona drew away, giggling nervously, but Maka laughed and held out another spoonful of ice cream. They smiled as they ate it, better practiced this time, and gave Maka more of theirs. Every time Maka’s lips closed around their spoon made their heart flutter.

“Are you gonna keep going like that all day?” Ragnarok grumbled after most of their ice creams had disappeared

“Maybe we will,” said Maka, holding out another spoonful.

Ragnarok threw himself forward and ate it, spoon and all. Then, he upended the rest of the coffee ice cream over his face, slurping it up. “Hey!” Maka yelled.

“It’s fine,” said Crona, “I wasn’t gonna finish it anyway...”

Ragnarok belched and slid back into Crona’s body. Crona glanced over their shoulder uneasily. “Maka... are you still scared?”

“Scared?” she asked.

“Didn’t you say before... that you were scared?”

“No, I’m relieved.” She held the last of her strawberry ice cream to Crona. They licked it off her spoon. “We’re out together... It almost doesn’t feel real. And we’re gonna do this a lot more.”

“Then... that makes this our first date,” said Crona happily.

With their ice cream finished, they left the ice cream shop, hand in hand. Crona took the liberty this time to interlace their fingers. What were they doing yesterday? It didn’t seem important. Nothing before today was relevant, not all the nerves of last night, not the long stretch of months between throwing their life away for hers and the moment they were sharing now. Maybe they’d died a long time ago in Maka’s arms. Except that wouldn’t make sense... Crona knew they were going to hell. It was better to enjoy this now before reaping the seeds of the past.

“Hey,” said Maka.

Crona’s eyes snapped up to her. “Huh?”

She smiled. “You have some ice cream on your face.”

Why hadn’t she said something before...? As Crona puzzled, Maka stood on her toes and kissed the corner of their mouth, right in the middle of the street. “Got it!”

Butterflies exploded in Crona’s stomach. “I want to go back to the academy.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes. There’s something I need to talk to Doctor Stein about.”

“Okay...” Maka started back, looking at Crona uncertainly. “Is this about your living situation?”

“Sort of.” Crona gripped their arm hard enough to feel the blood squeezing through it. It beat against them like a hammer. Always so angry. How could they know if the warmth and passion they felt was their own if the blood that rushed to their face belonged to someone else?

“I want to talk to Professor Stein too,” Maka said. The academy loomed close. “I don’t think he’ll be happy with me today, but I’ve done enough for him, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“They owe us a hundred other days off.”

“They owe us unlimited ice cream,” Ragnarok whispered.

Crona ignored him. Maka walked by their side with a spring in her step. Crona wished that they could walk with the same cheer as her. It wasn’t like she didn’t have her own cares and worries. She just didn’t let them weigh her down all the time.

Crona tried to quiet the growing nagging inside their head. The morning had started off so well, they didn’t want to start thinking dark thoughts yet.  _ She deserves better, _ their mind said.  _ She wants me, _ they argued.  _ Shut up, she’s talking!  _ they begged themself as they tried to listen.

_ She deserves better. She deserves everything. I could do more for her. My life is hers. For her, I shouldn’t be afraid. Though it doesn’t matter, really. I can be afraid. I can be terrified. _

Crona vaguely registered the irony as they fought through crowds of students for the second time that day, this time pushing back into the school. The maze of hallways was so familiar that Crona barely had to look up. They kept their eyes on the floor until they heard a familiar voice that filled them with dread.

“Maka, where were you? It’s not like you to miss class.”

“It was an emergency,” Maka lied.

“Crona.”

Crona forced themself to look up. Stein’s gaze seemed accusatory, or maybe Crona was just overthinking. “Um...”

“Can I help you?”

Crona clasped their hands. They glanced at Maka. “You should probably go first. You said you had something you wanted to talk about too, right?”

“Yeah.” Maka fished inside her pocket. She drew out her mama’s newest postcard. Crona’s heart sank. Maka’s own troubles had completely slipped their mind. “Professor Stein, do you know what this says?”

If they had just a little more time, Crona wondered if they would have been able to decipher it. Something about that writing had seemed so familiar. The place hadn’t, not at all, especially all those strange people draped in white. That was so eerie...

Stein took the postcard carefully. Maka waited excitedly, bouncing slightly up and down on the balls of her feet. Her pigtails swayed with her movements. She was so cute...

“It says ‘Jerusalem.’”

Oh, not familiar at all... Maka’s pigtails drooped. “You mean the city?”

“Yes.” Stein handed the postcard back with a smile, oblivious to Maka’s change in demeanor. “Your mother’s had some exciting travels recently.”

Maka stared hard back at the postcard, brows furrowing. “I thought it might say something else,” she said softly. “I thought there might be a message there.”

“I read that completely wrong,” Crona sighed. “I thought there were two Y letters.”

“It’s pronounced differently in English,” said Stein. “You were right. I’m impressed.”

_ How was it supposed to be pronounced? _ Crona decided not to ask. Maka seemed upset. “Maybe there’s something I’m supposed to figure out,” she said. “A wall, people wearing white... Maybe it means something. Do you know where this is, exactly?”

“The Western Wall. Up in that corner is the Dome of the Rock.” He pointed to a golden dome.

“Uh huh... Why do they look like ghosts?”

“Those are prayer shawls.”

Professor Stein just knew everything, Crona supposed... Maka held the postcard up to her nose. “Western Wall...” she muttered. “Prayer shawl...”

Crona giggled. “That rhymes.”

Maka glared at them. Crona glanced to the side. “I wouldn’t look too hard,” Stein said. “Your mother is a busy woman. I’m sure she’ll write when she has the chance.”

Maka sighed, and finally repocketed the postcard. “Yeah... Well, thanks anyway.” She smoothed down her coat and gave Crona a strained smile. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

She left them in such a hurry that Crona suddenly found themself feeling completely unprepared. The empty classroom they were in seemed  _ very _ empty. Doctor Stein looked taller than usual. “What’s on your mind,” he asked.

“Yeah... I, um...” They swallowed hard. “Th-th-the, um... procedure you mentioned...” Crona squeezed their arm so hard it hurt. “I want to go through with it. If it’s possible.”

Stein’s fingers twitched. “Anything’s possible.”

Crona trembled. The room seemed to be tilting. They vaguely heard Stein invite them to sit. They sank gladly into a chair across from him. Crona didn’t like how eagerly Stein tried to blink away the mad glint in his eye. “Obviously you understand that it’s risky.”

“Yes,” said Crona.

“It won’t just be one procedure either. You’ve survived injuries that would kill a normal person. When I operated on you, I knew you’d make a full recovery. But your spine’s suffered massive trauma. Before considering the actual process of replacing your blood, we’d have to make sure your body can survive on its own.”

Crona’s knuckles went white. Surviving  _ with _ Rangarok had been a long process, too. Ragnarok wasn’t born knowing how to close wounds. It had taken years. The true test had been enduring the pain until he learned. But  _ fixing _ their body... that couldn’t be as painful.

“You’re shaking,” said Stein. “You should think about this.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Crona said quietly. “And... I’m sure now.”

“What changed your mind?” Crona couldn’t answer that question. Not honestly. They couldn’t tell him about last night, he wouldn’t understand... “Last we spoke it was a solid no. You wouldn’t even hear about it.”

“Well... s-something’s... um...”

Ragnarok burst from their back. Crona winced. “It’s all for that stupid, ugly cow! This dirty brat here would die to get under her skirt!”

“Y-you—” Crona’s eyes rolled up. “AAAAAH!”

Stein raised his eyebrows. “That’s a valid reason to want your body to yourself. Though I suppose any reason is valid enough to want your own body. Just, I don’t think I’m telling you anything you don’t already know, but be careful not to transmit any blood between the two of you.”

Crona groaned, sinking as low into their chair as they could. Ragnarok didn’t help matters by settling onto their head. “I don’t think it’s fair that I’m not being given a say in this,” he huffed.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t want your own body too,” said Stein. “If you disapprove of Crona’s personal life this much, you should be relieved.”

“I’m doing Crona a  _ favor, _ like you said, they wouldn’t be able to survive on their own.” He grasped Crona’s chin, forcing them to look up. “You think this skinny little twink could make it without me? You don’t even  _ know _ how fucked up their skeleton is. I’m the only thing holding this body up.”

“Alright then,” said Stein, pushing up his glasses, “you’ll survive and Crona won’t.”

Crona squeaked. “Whoa, you’re okay with that, old man?” Ragnarok asked.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about Crona’s survival. Well, if that’s your primary concern, I can respect that.”

That shut Ragnarok up. He released Crona and shrank back. “Well then,” Stein continued. “If we do go forward with this, it’ll be easier on both of us if you’re as close by as possible. This is going to happen over the course of many months, at least. I’ll have to ask that you accept Marie’s offer so that I can monitor your progress.”

Crona blinked. They were shocked at this sudden turn, they didn’t think Stein would want them around... Especially with Marie. “That’s... Are you sure about that?”

“Changing scenery shouldn’t be nearly as daunting a prospect as having all the blood siphoned out of your body.”

Crona laughed awkwardly. They knew Stein was right, logically, but fear was never anything logical. “I’ve had a lot of time to mull it over,” Stein said, “and I’ve decided that just because it’s something I’m not used to doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea. Marie cares a lot about you, you know.” Crona smiled. Hearing that made their heart feel warm. “And I appreciate everything you’ve done. It would make her happy, if you moved in with us.”

Crona thought about it. Maybe a few months ago, before everything, they wouldn’t have hesitated. But thinking about Marie and being so close to her brought a strange ache into their chest.  _ I’m not ready to forgive you, _ she’d said. Then,  _ I’ll never forgive myself. _ Crona hadn’t done anything for her forgiveness. There was a heavy weight now between them. Not like the comfortable warmth there was before.

“If you’re sure,” said Crona.

“Are you?” asked Stein.

About Marie, Crona would never be sure. That sense of guilt, that heavy ache would never go away. Or maybe it would, over time. She’d spoken about lines being drawn over. She’d been rambling, but she’d tried.

About Maka, though... Crona’s heart was set. They nodded once. “Yes. I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter shouldn't take too long to post, but I'm holding it hostage until I get at least 4 comments on this one.
> 
> I miss Soul. :(


	6. Patchwork Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crona has a lot they need to do to prepare for the upcoming procedure. Marie is excited to begin. Crona dreads every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short chapter, but this is probably gonna be the last short chapter for the rest of the fic. Prepare to be stressed the FUCK out!!!

Marie was ecstatic. It took everything she had to contain her excitement and teach like everything was normal until the day was over and she could fetch Crona to bring them home.  _ Home. _ With her. Crona was finally going home with her!

She kept careful note of where they went throughout the day. She didn’t want to waste any time looking for them. She found them standing outside their classroom, talking to Maka. Marie approached from behind and tapped them on the shoulder.

Crona jumped and spun around. “Oh— h-hi.”

Marie smiled at them. “Are you ready?”

“Huh? Wh-what’s going on?”

“We’re going to pick up your things! Would you lead the way?”

Maka glanced from her to Crona. “You’re moving today?”

“I am?” said Crona.

Marie’s smile twitched. “The sooner the better, right? When exactly were you planning on moving...?”

Crona glanced shyly down at Maka. “I... I guess this is happening today... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Maka.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t know.” Maka rubbed their arm, then pulled them closer to lean in and kiss them on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye!”

Crona blushed, and didn’t reply until Maka had already turned around, “B-bye.”

Marie’s heart swelled. She’d known those two had something special between them, but seeing it reignited her belief in everything good in the world.  _ Young love... _ She put a hand on her chest to still her beating heart. She and Crona watched Maka until she disappeared, then her eyes snapped back to them, her mind willing itself to focus. “Alright, let’s get going.”

Crona led the way past the bright and colorful crowds into the gloom and quiet of the dungeons. Marie refused to let the atmosphere dull her mood. After today, she would never have to come down here to find Crona again. They’d be right near her, in a place that suited them better. As determined as she was, her heart still sank when Crona opened the door, and Marie stepped into their room one last time. It was so gloomy, and she’d left them to rot in this place for months.

“Are you excited?” she asked them, trying to force some cheer into the room.

“I don’t know how I feel yet,” Crona answered.

They stepped over to the desk and slowly, reluctantly, gathered their things into a pile. Marie searched for clothes. There weren’t many places to look. There was no proper closet in this room. Nowhere for a person to hide. This room wasn’t made for a tennant, it was made for a prisoner. It was never meant for a lengthy stay. But Crona didn’t have much. Marie gathered their tracksuit and one formal suit, stark white against everything black. There were a couple other articles of clothing that Marie had never seen Crona wear. Marie laid out all the clothes to refold them. There were few enough to lay side by side without exceeding the length of the bed.

Marie smoothed down each article of clothing sadly until she felt Crona staring at her. She finally started folding. The suit seemed to fold itself, it had only been worn once, the folding lines pressed deeply in. She piled everything neatly into one flat stack. This wouldn’t take more than one trip.

Crona was less careful with their things. They shoved books and papers haphazardly into their bag. They paused for a long time, holding up a crumpled photograph. Marie looked over their shoulder. It was a photo of Crona and Maka at Kid’s party. It was the only photograph in this room, and Maka’s outfit was the only splash of color. Marie wondered how it had gotten so damaged. Crona wouldn’t have just let something like that happen to something that must have been so precious to them.

“Once we drop off your things, I’d like to take you shopping,” she said. “We can get you a frame for that.”

Crona’s face seemed to brighten a little. They tucked the photograph into a notebook. They packed all their school things into their bag. Everything else fit in one box. “I’ll carry this,” Marie offered, “I insist.”

They didn’t say much as they walked upstairs, despite Marie’s attempts to make conversation. She asked them how classes were. They answered with a noncommittal grunt. She asked them how Maka was doing. They didn’t answer.

They didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Their gaze was focused hard on the floor. As they continued on outside, Marie tried not to be discouraged, even though Crona didn’t seem happy at all. Their feet slowed down the closer they traveled to the city limits. Marie understood that they were anxious about moving, but as the lab came into sight, Marie realized that as much as Stein would hate it, some redecorating might be in order.

She’d always found Stein’s taste in decor...  _ interesting, _ but those trees with branches that ended in arrows must have been downright terrifying for Crona. She watched their neck hunch into their shoulders. They clutched the straps of their bag tight.

“I’ve always thought those trees were kind of depressing,” Marie said. “I’m sure Stein won’t mind if we plant different trees instead.”

Marie had her hammer. If Crona couldn’t take another step, she could take care of those trees right this second. But Crona hurried on ahead when they reached the door to open it for Marie. She thanked them graciously as she led the way inside.

The house was empty, but buzzing as always with the hum of strange devices. Crona followed Marie up the stairs and into the spare room, where, just a few months ago, she had stayed when she first moved back to Death City. It had been pretty bare since she moved into Stein’s room. She’d emptied it fully of any lasting personal touches in anticipation of Crona’s arrival. Unfortunately, it just made the room seem smaller somehow despite being less crowded.

Marie deposited Crona’s things down on the bed. Crona followed suit and placed their bag down next to it. “We can definitely fix things up to be a little more cheerful,” Marie said, smoothing down the plain bed covers. “This place needed a  _ lot _ of work when I moved in... this can be our fun little project! How would you like your own plant to take care of? It can be very fulfilling.”

“I don’t know,” Crona said, a crease forming between their eyebrows, “I wouldn’t know how to deal with something like that...”

“Well, you definitely need new bedding and new clothes.”

Crona sighed deeply. “I can’t deal with clothes shopping right now... Nothing ever fits right.”

“Alright, we can do that some other day.”  _ One step at a time... _ Marie pointed to the desk. “There’s a desk!” Crona’s eyes turned. “I was going to replace the lamp, but I thought I’d let you pick out your own. Is the desk big enough?”

“Y-yeah...”

“If you need more space to work, don’t be shy about speaking up! Building a new desk might be fun... Oh! I know!” Marie clapped her hands together. “We can get you lots of new books! That’d be fun! You like poetry!”

“I like writing it,” Crona said. “Well... I don’t even like writing that much, it’s just something I do.”

“Then let’s find you something you’ll like.” Marie wondered if it would have been better to buy the essentials and just let Crona settle first, but she’d wanted to give them the opportunity to make their own decisions and really control their environment. “Let’s at least get you everything you need first, and if you see anything else you like, we’ll get you lots of nice new things for your room!”

Marie led them back out of the lab and back into town toward the nearest shopping district. Crona followed obediently behind her, but they followed at a distance. Maybe Crona would be a little more enthusiastic once they went inside... Marie led them into Housegoods with a hopeful smile. Ragnarok poked out curiously. “Alright, both of you, pick out whatever you want! Furniture, bedding,  _ anything.” _

_ “Anything?” _ Ragnarok repeated.

Marie’s eyes narrowed. “Within reason.”

While Ragnarok grabbed things off shelves and threw them, Crona stuck close to Marie’s side. She tried to lead them in the direction of nice things, soft things... Crona merely glanced at the shelves. The cart Marie pushed remained empty. “You... want this pillow?” Marie grabbed a pillow off a shelf. It was pink and fuzzy and shaped like a diamond. Or maybe a sideways square...?

“I don’t need much.”

“You can get a hundred pillows if you want.” Marie put that one down and stared down the shelf thoughtfully. “Hmm, your room could use a theme. What’s your favorite color?”

“Black,” Crona answered.

“Really?”

“Well, it’s hard to pick a favorite color...” Crona’s hands fidgeted. “Because they always look different depending on what you’re looking at... If you pick out just one shade, it won’t look the same on its own. Like, you can’t say you like the color of sunset when there’s so many... Black always looks the same, though.”

“That’s... an interesting point,” said Marie.

“Red’s the tastiest color.”

“Alright, Ragnarok.”

Marie was worried that Ragnarok would make all the decisions for both of them, but he seemed more interested in making a mess than buying anything. Marie looked carefully along the wall. “It can get cold in there sometimes, so you might want to get a few blankets... I’ll see if it’s a problem with the heater, but guess it can’t be as drafty as—” Marie felt a draft next to her. She turned around. Crona had disappeared from her side.

They were lost forever. She would never see them again.

Marie ran back down the aisle. She passed something pink— She skidded to a halt and turned around. Crona was crouched close to the floor, padding a comforter. Marie watched them. They stared at the comforter hard, pressing the heels of their hand into it intently. They might have been checking for lumps if they weren’t just pushing down on the same spot.

“You like that?” Marie asked.

Crona jumped, spinning around, looking up at her guiltily. “Yeah, it’s soft...”

“I’ll buy it for you!” Marie said happily. She snatched up the comforter and placed it eagerly in the cart.

Crona straightened up. “Can I get something for Maka?”

_ Aww... _ “Sure, why not.” 

“What do you think she’d like?” Crona asked.

“Um...” Marie had no idea. What were teenage girls into these days...?

“Do they have CDs here? I could make Maka a music CD, since she made one for me...”

Marie’s hand flew to her heart. “That’s so sweet of her! Do you like music, Crona?”

“I... I like My Chemical Resonance...”

The name sounded only vaguely familiar to Marie. Ragnarok leaned forward, and for some reason, leered. “There’s a funny story behind that!”

“No!” Crona cried. “No there’s not!”

“I’ll... I’ll get you a CD player.”

Crona and Ragnarok argued in heated whispers on the way to the electronics section. Marie realized she had no idea how to find the electronics section. They passed by a row of stuffed animals. There was a cute stuffed bunny on the shelf... Marie swiped it and waved it around in front of Crona, making its ears flop back and forth. “Does this bunny remind you of anyone?”

Crona drew back, suddenly uneasy. “I don’t know how to deal with bunnies,” they whispered.

Incredulously, Marie put it down, thinking it best to just move on. “I have to make a stop to get cleaning supplies,” she announced. She looked up at the ceiling, up at the signs, trying to figure out which way the numbers went. Was right up or down...? It was so much harder to try and find her way without depth perception. Not that she’d been any better at it with both eyes...

Marie realized that she’d accidentally left Crona behind again. She groaned, wondering how lucky she’d get this time, when she spotted them running toward her, clutching something in their arms. They had indeed made it to the cleaning supplies section... and Crona was holding a feather duster, stroking its fluff.

“Can I have this?” they asked her.

“That is a feather duster,” said Marie. Crona’s eyebrows drew up, their shoulders tensed, and their hold on the feather duster tightened. Marie forced a smile. “Yes, you can have it.”

Crona immediately brightened. They ran their hand across the feathers, petting the thing like it was an animal. Watching them gave Marie mixed feelings; it was simultaneously the cutest and saddest thing she’d ever seen.

  * 🩸 🩸 🩸



The air felt so strange. No matter how Crona shifted under the rough new sheets, they just couldn’t get comfortable.

They’d gone to bed early so that they wouldn’t have to see Stein when he got home. They’d used up all their energy moving their things and going out shopping. They were too tired to wash up, too tired to eat dinner, too tired to change into pajamas... but not tired enough to sleep. The bed was softer than what they were used to, and the blanket too heavy, but they couldn’t just sleep uncovered, exposed to the air. Their body was wracked with all sorts of aches and pains and their consciousness was stubbornly clinging to the present. 

Ragnarok was sleeping just fine inside Crona’s veins. His sleeping place hadn’t changed, he’d hardly moved, really. For the first time, Crona envied him and wished they could switch places.

Crona couldn’t keep still for more than a few seconds without feeling like the walls were going to close in. This room was smaller than their room in the dungeon. Why did they have to leave? They missed the cold familiarity, the quiet stillness that was good for sitting and thinking. Marie and Maka had always said that they didn’t belong there, but there was some vindictive comfort in feeling like they were being punished. It just felt right... and nothing about this felt right, especially the close presence of living people nearby. Their nerves could sense Stein’s and Marie’s souls pulsing.

They covered their head with their pillow, but still felt the walls drawing closer. They moved the pillow off their face and stared straight ahead. By the weak moonlight, they could see the ceiling descending. It was going to slowly crush them...

Crona pushed the blanket off and stood up on the bed to touch the ceiling, measuring how far their arms had to stretch to reach it. They took careful note of their position. They stepped down to feel along the walls. They made a full perimeter, then looked back up— the ceiling was  _ definitely _ closer. They got back up on the bed to check, wincing at how the frames creaked, stretching their arms... 

It was the same.

They climbed back down to feel around the perimeter again. Then back to the ceiling. Back to the walls. Counted the steps. Wondered what a more reliable form of measurement would tell them. Crona opened up their drawer to take inventory of their belongings. They checked by touch.  _ Turn on the light, _ they thought, but what if they woke up Stein and Marie... What if they accidentally turned on every light in the place... What if they broke the circuit...

They counted their things. Crona wondered if it would have made Marie happy if they’d gotten new clothes after all. She’d mentioned finishing up another time, but when would they be finished? Why wasn’t what they had enough? Why didn’t Marie understand that more belongings just meant more to keep track of, more things to manage... Why did she care so much?

Thinking about her and how much she cared used to make Crona feel warm, but now it hurt. Maybe if she was awake, and if she were alone, Crona would feel better about having her so close by. They’d been so tired, spending all day following her around, but it was nice to be with her. Crona didn’t have to worry about how to deal with her when she did all the talking. 

As much as she insisted that Crona could just ask for whatever they needed, they didn’t know how, they had no idea how to approach her. Maybe they could do it if Stein wasn’t there... 

Marie had even said she’d leave him. She couldn’t mean that, could she? Having a nice, small place with just Miss Marie... just the two of them... it was a nice thought that Crona felt extremely guilty for having.

But then again, there was no point to that. Crona remembered what Stein had said; why they had to leave the dungeon... Stein had to monitor them for this experiment. Crona wondered what he meant by that. They hadn’t asked at the time, they hadn’t cared, they’d only been thinking about Maka and what they could do for her. Would Stein be watching them all the time? Crona had heard him come home, but they hadn’t seen him, they’d heard him talking to Marie... Crona had heard their name spoken... How long could they go without seeing him? It couldn’t be long, if Stein had to watch them...

_ Could he be watching now? _ Crona suddenly wondered.

Were there cameras in here? Crona felt along the walls again, wondering if they’d felt something out of the ordinary before. They dragged their desk chair across the room so they could feel the entire length— floor to ceiling. There were nothing but cracks in the walls. Crona dug a nail underneath one and tore it open. Nothing. There was nothing.

Nothing but a hole...

Crona froze. They’d damaged the wall. They forced themself away from it, putting the desk chair back, tingling with dread. What would Stein do if he saw? Would he get mad? Would Crona be in trouble? Would he and Marie send them back? The room was  _ definitely _ shrinking now. They checked the ceiling again.

Still the same...

They breathed out, climbed down, opened their drawer back up. Now that they were awake and restless, they pulled out a pair of pajamas. Then, wondering if Stein was watching, put them back. Crona wouldn’t let Stein see them naked, he was just going to have to contend himself watching them pace around their new room like a caged animal.

They lost their ability to count how many paces it took to travel the length of their room. They finally tired of feeling every surface. They crawled back into bed, wriggling deep under the covers, willing for unconsciousness to claim them. They wound up tossing and turning more until all the blankets crumpled into a heap.

Crona wished they could sleep. They wanted to be  _ gone. _ They buried their face into their pillow to quietly sob into it. As hard as they tried to control it, it sounded too loud, that and the ceaseless creaking of the bed... They didn’t want to make a sound. They tried to hold it in until they couldn’t breathe anymore.

Crona wiped their nose against their arm. They got back up and pulled the comforter off of the bed. They opened up their bedside table drawer and carefully took out their new feather duster, where they’d hidden it to stay tucked away and safe.

They piled the comforter into the corner to the right of the window, furthest away from the patch of light on the floor. Crona patted it into a comfortable enough position, then curled up on top of it. 

This felt a little better... they felt safer here. They pressed into the walls instead of having the walls press in on them. They clutched their feather duster close and breathed into it, pulling the feathers in with each inhale, pushing them away with each exhale. Back and forth... In and out...

Their heart calmed soon. They had the hard wooden stick to hold onto, and solid walls to lean against, and a hard floor. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it felt a lot closer to what they were used to. They used to sleep curled up on top of cold tiles without a blanket beneath them or a feather duster to hold.

This was alright. They could deal with this.

Crona’s breathing steadied. As the sky lightened, they finally started to drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know ao3 has this policy where you're not supposed to share personal information, but I think it's easy enough to tell by this chapter that I have HORRIFIC insomnia. I did not need a beta or a second opinion on this one because you know what they say, write what you know!!!!!!
> 
> I want to try and have some sort of cohesive upload schedule, I'm gonna try for every other week. But like I said before, the rest of the chapters I have planned are lengthy, so I need comments and feedback to write faster! Good work last chapter, that made me very happy!


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